


Sanctuary

by Ink_Gypsy, Keye



Series: Sanctuary Universe [1]
Category: LOTR RPS (AU)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 117,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Gypsy/pseuds/Ink_Gypsy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keye/pseuds/Keye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young gay man escaping an abusive relationship with an older lover finds refuge with a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Begun in April 2005 and completed in September 2009.

[ ](http://s755.photobucket.com/user/elwoodlovesirish/media/Sanctuary_desktopcropped_1280x800.jpg.html)

The kid manning the gas pumps couldn't have been older than fourteen. He pulled a piece of Bazooka out of the breast pocket of his grease-stained overalls, popped it into his mouth and got it going. "Fill 'er up?" he asked after a moment, punctuating his question with a big, pink bubble.

"Sure," Elijah answered, never quite meeting his gaze. "Make it regular."

The kid nodded, then unhooked the nozzle and shoved it into the gas tank of the beat-up black compact. He started to walk away, then almost as an afterthought, grabbed a bucket from between the pumps and began to wash the windshield. Elijah couldn't remember a gas station attendant ever washing his windows. Weren't such extras a thing of the past? Maybe it was because he was out in the boonies. Mom and Pop gas stations like this one had probably never even heard of self-service.

Elijah listened as the ancient pump counted off each gallon of gas with a ding. Was it incredibly slow, or did it just seem that way because he was anxious to be on his way? The kid stared at him through the window as he pulled the squeegee back and forth across the glass, making Elijah feel terribly self-conscious. He opened the glove compartment and pretended to busy himself with a map. _Probably thinks I'm some movie star who doesn't want to be recognized_, he thought, _or at least some movie star wannabe_.

Keeping a low profile was exactly what he wanted to do, but it had nothing to do with fame. As the gasoline continued to pump, Elijah looked out through the passenger window. He didn't notice when it happened, but he saw that gravel roads had now replaced asphalt. "I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," he murmured aloud, and the reference helped to ease his fears, but only momentarily. He didn't think he could put enough miles between he and Pedar to ever feel really safe.

The teen's head suddenly appeared through the open, passenger side window. "That'll be $18.50, Mister."

Lost in thought, Elijah was so startled by the intrusion that he jumped, heart banging inside his chest. His hands went to the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white. _Calm down_, he told himself, _he probably doesn't even know you're gone yet_. With a trembling hand, Elijah gave the kid a twenty and told him to keep the change.

"Gee, thanks, Mister," the kid said, his face breaking into an animated grin.

"You're welcome," Elijah said quickly, then started the engine and pulled away.

"Have a nice trip!" the kid called after him.

As soon as he was out of sight of the station, Elijah pulled over and stopped the car. He took off his glasses and checked his face in the rear-view mirror, wondering if he still looked as bad as he felt. He did. The swelling had gone down, but the flesh around his left eye was still the color of ripe eggplant. He touched it and winced. Even after 48 hours it was still incredibly tender. He'd considered trying to cover it with make-up, but was afraid he'd only make it look worse, so he decided to wear his glasses instead. After two years of contacts, seeing his eyes staring back at him through the black-framed lenses made him feel as if he was wearing a disguise. Not that any kind of disguise would have been able to camouflage Pedar's handiwork.

Even without makeup, his split lip wasn't too noticeable. He'd put ice on it right away to prevent it from swelling, and now the small scab on his bottom lip looked like nothing more sinister than a cold sore. But that bruise on his cheek. Nobody could miss that. Elijah knew he'd probably called more attention to himself by trying to hide his injuries, but people usually got very nosy if they saw you were hurt, and the last thing he wanted to do was answer a lot of questions.

Elijah fished the bottle of Excedrin out of his pocket and took two more tablets, washing them down with the last mouthful of his bottled water. He'd been popping them like M&amp;M's, but they weren't helping the pounding in his head. And he'd developed a buzzing in his ears, like some persistant mosquito circling his head, determined to bite him. He closed his eyes and felt the world tilt, then opened them and stared at a fixed point on the dashboard until everything had righted itself again. He knew he shouldn't be driving, but what choice did he have? He had to keep moving. It was too dangerous to stop.

Checking his wallet, Elijah was reassured by the thick wad of cash in the billfold. He'd taken all the money in the apartment, then used the ATM to withdraw more from Pedar's account. Because of the daily limit on withdrawals, he'd timed it so he could get two shots at the machine, the first at 11:45pm, then again at a few minutes past midnight. A police car had been parked across the street from the bank, and Elijah was sure the cop would see him and think his hanging around the ATM suspicious, but the patrolman had been more interested in getting a midnight snack at the Dunkin Donuts next door, so Elijah had managed to get away without incident. He wished he could have gone back a third time, but that would have meant staying another day, and he had to go while Pedar was still out of town. Elijah knew that if he missed this opportunity, once Pedar got back it would be a long time before he got another one. Maybe the money he'd taken would be enough to last him for a few weeks if he kept his spending to a minimum. Being able to use the credit card Pedar had given him would have made traveling much easier, but all the bills were sent to Pedar, and Elijah couldn't chance leaving a paper trail that would help Pedar track him down. Not that Elijah had any specific travel plans, other than to run as fast and as far away as he could. He put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road.

He couldn't seem to shake the fear that had gripped him since he'd finally made the decision to leave. All during the ride to the airport, Elijah had been afraid to look at Pedar, sure one look at his face and the man would know exactly what he was planning to do. He'd stayed in the terminal, watching the plane take off, then sat for fifteen minutes, watching the gate, just in case Pedar had changed his mind and gotten off. His first night on the road, even though he knew Pedar was 3000 miles away, Elijah had found himself checking the rearview mirror every two minutes, somehow expecting to see the black Porsche behind him, its lighted vanity license plate spelling out _HAMLET_.

Elijah struggled to calm his mind, and found his thoughts turning to Hannah. He knew she'd have to be told about his leaving, but he dreaded making the call, knowing he'd have to do more explaining than he was ready to do. He gave no thought to telling his father or even Zach. His father's response would only be "Good riddance," and Zach's… Elijah wasn't sure there'd be any reaction at all from Zach, but Hannah was a different story. She was the only one who gave a damn about him, and he knew she'd worry.

He wished there had been a pay phone at the gas station, but the call would have to wait until he found one. His cell phone would have come in handy right now, but it would be too dangerous to use even if he'd brought it. Like his credit card, his cell phone bill went directly to Pedar, and Elijah knew he'd be safer if Pedar didn't know he'd contacted Hannah. Inconvenient as it was, Elijah knew he'd been right to leave the cell phone and the credit card behind. He was staying on the back roads, so there would be no rest stops, but eventually he would find a phone.

Eventually turned out to be another three hours and he didn't know how many miles when he found what could only be described as a general store. It reminded him of the store on _The Waltons_, one of the few television programs their father had thought wholesome enough for he and Hannah to watch as children. He almost expected to see Ike Godsey standing behind the counter when he went inside, but the man who greeted him was sixtyish and stoop-shouldered, with snow-white hair. He kept squinting at Elijah, as if he had forgotten his own glasses and was trying his best to see without them.

"Hello there, young fella," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "What can I get for you?"

"Do you have a pay phone?" Elijah asked. The man's expression changed slightly, and Elijah was sure he saw a hint of suspicion. "And I could use something cold to drink," he quickly added.

That seemed to pacify the old man. "Cooler's by the door," he said, indicating a squat square chest with a lid. "Phone's in the back."

Elijah started for the phone, but seeing the man's expectant look, went to the cooler instead and pulled out a bottle of Coke, then grabbed a bag of corn chips for good measure and brought them to the counter. He paid for them, then left them there and made his way to the back of the store.

The booth looked ancient, the phone an old-fashioned one with a rotary dial, but it worked. He dialed Hannah's number, then dropped in the appropriate amount of coins when he heard the electronic voice prompt him.

"You just caught me," Hannah said when she heard his voice. "I was on my way to class, but I've got a few minutes. What's up?"

"Pedar didn't happen to call you, did he?" Elijah asked conversationally, "asking if you've heard from me?" He had tried to keep his tone light, but the moment Hannah spoke, it was obvious she'd seen right through his attempt at casualness.

"Lijah?" she asked. "What is it?"

She hadn't used her childhood nickname for him in years, and hearing it now brought a smile to Elijah's lips. "Nothing. I just called to say hi."

"And to wonder whether I've heard from Pedar? Nice try. Now are you going to tell me what's really going on?"

"I told you----"

"Why would you think Pedar would call me?" Hannah interrupted. "Did you two have a fight?" She paused, and for a moment there was no sound on the line except for Hannah's breathing. When she finally spoke again it was in a voice Elijah had never heard her use before. "Pedar hurt you again, didn't he?" she asked with deadly calm.

Elijah could feel tears starting and fought to hold them back. "I'm fine," he told her, but he knew before the words were out that she wasn't going to believe him. Calling Hannah had been a mistake. She knew him too well. He'd been stupid to think he could keep the truth from her.

Almost from the day she was born, he and Hannah had developed a connection much deeper than most brothers and sisters. Even when he tried to hide his feelings from her, Hannah could always tell when something was wrong, especially if he was hurt or frightened. She wasn't that way with their brother, perhaps because of the age difference. Zach was nine years older than Hannah, while only two years separated her from Elijah.

A similar bond had existed between Elijah and his mother. He had always been her favorite, perhaps because he had needed the most mothering, had required the most protecting. After Debbie's death, Hannah had seamlessly taken over her mother's role of Elijah's confidant and protector. It had been Hannah, the youngest child, who had kept the family together, both physically and emotionally. She had known early on who Elijah was, and often put herself physically between him and their father when Warren Wood thought a beating would drive away the sin he believed was in his younger son's heart.

"You can't keep letting him do this to you."

"I'm all right," he assured her.

"For now," she said sharply, "but what about the next time?" The words had felt like a slap in the face. Elijah pulled the receiver away from his ear, then brought it back in time to hear Hannah continue in the same brutal tone. "My God, Elijah, are you going to wait until he puts you in the hospital ---- or worse?" She gave the veiled threat time to sink in, then ordered, "You have to get away from him."

"I have."

"What do you mean?"

Elijah took off his glasses and massaged his tired eyes with forefinger and thumb. "I've left him, Hannah. That's why I wanted to know if Pedar had called you. Once he realizes I'm gone, he'll start looking for me, try to bring me back."

"You need to come here."

"I can't, Hannah. He knows how close we are. It's the first place he'll look. You don't know what Pedar's capable of, the kind of connections he has. I have to disappear for a while, go so far underground that even _he_ can't find me."

"Pedar will have people looking for your car."

"I didn't take the car, Hannah."

"Then how are you traveling?" she asked. "He'll be watching the airports, the train and bus stations, won't he?"

"I'm driving," Elijah told her, "but not the sports car. I didn't take anything he gave me. Dom loaned me that old car he was trying to sell, said I could keep it as long as I needed it."

"That clunker?" Hannah asked, and he could hear the concern in her voice. "What if it breaks down?"

"I know it's old, but it's still got enough life in it to get me where I'm going."

"And where's that?"

"It's better if you don't know, Hannah....safer."

"What about Dad and Zach?"

"What about them?" Elijah asked bitterly. "It won't bother Dad that I've fallen off the face of the earth. He'll probably be glad to hear it. And Zach....I don't think he'll care much either."

"You know that's not true...." Hannah began, but let her words fade, unable to muster enough enthusiasm to make it sound even remotely believable. "Will you be all right?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

"I can take care of myself," Elijah answered.

It was a lie and they both knew it. Hannah had always been the independent one. Even as children, her self-reliance had frightened Elijah. Despite having two older brothers, Hannah had proven herself quite capable of fighting her own battles, and more often than not, Elijah's as well. "If I hadn't seen Mom and Dad bring you home from the hospital," Elijah often told her, "I'd swear you were the oldest one of us, not Zach."

"Am I ever going to see you again?" she asked softly, and he knew she was crying.

"You think you're going to get rid of me that easily?" he joked. "Look, Pedar will get tired of looking for me eventually. I just don't know how long it will take."

"I'll miss you like crazy, but I'll be able to bear it if I know you're safe. You _will_ be safe, won't you?"

"Of course," Elijah told her, and for both their sakes, tried to sound as if he believed it.

"And you'll let me know once you get settled?"

"You'll be my first call. Look, Hannah, I'd better get going. You take care of yourself, ok?"

"Okay." There was another long pause, then Hannah's voice came through the receiver in a whisper. "Lijah?"

Elijah closed his eyes, picturing her lovely face, wondering how long it would be before he would get to see her again. If he ever would. "I know, Hannah," he answered softly. "Me, too." The last two words caught in his throat and he hung up quickly so she wouldn't hear.

With his glasses still in his hand and tears further blurring his vision, Elijah ran for the door, making a wild grab for the Coke and chips on the counter as he went by. He managed to get his fingers around the neck of the bottle, but in his haste knocked the chips off the counter. He saw the bag fall, heard it split open and the contents spill onto the floor, but he didn't slow down, not even when the storekeeper yelled after him. He just kept going until he'd made it outside, then slid into the driver's seat and took off.


	2. Chapter 2

"There was a young fella stopped in here this morning to use the phone. A stranger. Thought he might be looking for you, but he just bought a Coke and didn't say much."

Sean shook his head, keeping his friendly smile in place as he leaned on the worn counter writing out his check. "Not expecting anyone." He supposed it wasn't unreasonable for Jenkins to try to make some connection between a stranger in town and himself. He was still a stranger to them, after picking up his mail there for more than a year, after visiting with Daniel for a good decade. They were a long way off the beaten trail and strangers didn't pass through very often.

Sean watched Jenkins examine the check, squinting at it with a suspicious look, as he always did. Sean had learned not to take it personally. The man apparently satisfied himself that everything was in order and finally slid the check into his register, closing the drawer with a resounding _ka-ching_. "That do it for you?"

Sean nodded. "Thanks." He tucked his mail into one of the boxes at his feet and then gathered up the last of his purchases to take out to the Jeep.

The sun was high in a clear sky. It was hot, humid, still. He hauled himself into the driver's seat and went over his list one more time to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything, then headed for home. He tried to pick up the train of thought he'd been on hours before, working out a plot point, notes he needed to get down on paper. But somehow he'd let Daniel's name cross his mind, and he found himself right back there in that place he'd struggled so hard to get out of. For a while, the sadness was crushing in its intensity. He drove with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and his eyes deliberately fixed on the road ahead, until he could get through that and begin breathing again. He could drag himself out of it if he made the effort, and he did. It was all right. It had to be progress that he was willing to pick himself back up now when it struck him down. It was barely a whisper of melancholy by the time he made his last turn, from gravel onto the overgrown, rutted track that wound miles into the wood to his place. He tried again to think of the chapter he was working on, but that wasn't going to happen. A quarter mile from home he was stopped dead by a car parked and abandoned in his way.

Alarms went off in his mind, his pulse quickening. None of the few people who knew he was there would come without warning him ahead of time. Unless some old friend of Daniel's managed to piece together the clues. He didn't recognize the car, an older model compact, dull black and covered in dust. But that didn't mean anything. He hadn't seen any of Daniel's friends in over a year, hadn't really spoken to any of them in much longer. There wasn't a single one of them he wanted to see, not then, maybe not ever. He took in a slow, careful breath and let it out, then turned off the Jeep and set the brake. He couldn't go around. The wood was too dense, too close on either side of the lane.

With his stomach nervously jittering, he got out and quietly closed his door. He walked up to the car and glanced uneasily inside. The window was open and the smell of stale cigarette smoke wafted out, mixed with a strange, spicy scent. There were a few items of clothing wadded and tossed here and there, a scattering of loose change on the passenger seat, a Walkman and open CD case on the floor. In the cup holder was a mostly full bottle of Coke. Jenkins' stranger, most likely. It could be someone just passing through. The lane wasn't marked as a dead end, but it sure had the look of a road that went nowhere. Why would someone just passing through randomly turn onto it? And why just leave the car sit there? He peered into the shadowed wood all around. There was no sound but the twittering of birds in the trees. He went on around to the front of the car and spotted a pool of greenish fluid. Overheated radiator. It didn't ease his concern much. The notion of one of Daniel's friends having found him was a deeply unsettling one. But his only choice was to face it.

Back at the Jeep, he piled into one box anything that couldn't be left out in the heat, then he set out to walk the last stretch, his mind racing but getting nowhere. What could they want from him after all this time? To know he'd suffered maybe. He had. He did still. At that moment, the sadness had him full in its grip again. And there was an edge of panic to it this time. His feet felt leaden as he followed a last curving of the lane, as the cabin came into view. He stopped and listened, his every nerve standing up straight, staring at the front door. The urge to run was a powerful one. But how much farther could he run? This was his place. They couldn't take it away from him. And why would they want to?

A hot breeze wafted across the back of his neck. Sweat trickled. This was his place. Daniel had made sure of that. He clenched his teeth and forced himself on across the clearing and up the steps onto the porch, where he hesitated again. There was no sound from inside. He maneuvered the box precariously to one arm, turned the knob as quietly as he could, and slowly pushed open the door. Daylight streamed in and fell on the figure of a young man sprawled out asleep at the table, in Daniel's chair. Sean's stomach twisted, unreasonably he knew. But he'd spent the last year and more sitting across from Daniel's empty chair. He hadn't as much as scooted it an inch from the place Daniel had left it. And this stranger had the nerve to just walk in and flop down there. Stranger…

Sean slipped inside and put his back against the wall, staring. It wasn't anyone he'd ever seen before. A stranger. Relief flooded his senses. The sorrow lost its dread. He nudged the door half shut with his shoulder, to get the light off the sleeper's face, then silently put down the box he was carrying by the fridge, edging his way around the table, watching. He brushed open the curtains over the sink to let in more indirect light, and finally stood looking down at the young man. He had his head on his folded arms with his face half hidden by a shock of dark hair, dark eyelashes feathered against a pale cheek, eyeglasses askew.

Sean felt an urge to reach out and remove the glasses. That couldn't be comfortable. But he just stood there, absently rubbing one sweating palm across his shirtfront, feeling a different kind of nervous. He carefully didn't make a sound but inside he laughed at himself, getting so worked up over nothing, over some poor traveler who was lost and in car trouble and just needed help. He was only a boy, maybe not even out of his teens.

Sean took in a deep, calming breath and thoughtfully scratched at the scruff of beard on his jaw. Then he settled into his own chair across the table, and leaned forward to lightly touch a fingertip to the guy's shoulder. "Hey… "

The stranger startled awake and quickly raised his head, blinking. His face was bruised, one eye blackened, a good shiner over that high cheekbone. His eyes were dark blue and enormous. He raised hands that seemed to be shaking and adjusted his glasses. He took in a breath. "Where am I?"

"You're in my house." Sean was sorry he'd wakened the boy, sorry for the sad circumstances he seemed to be in. Even though the boy's face made the answer painfully obvious, Sean asked anyway, "Are you hurt?"

The boy panicked. "I didn't break in –- the door was unlocked –- my car broke down and I thought I could use your phone -- please don't call the police!"

Sean felt the fear like it was his own.

"I didn't steal anything, I swear –- if you'll just let me go…" He pushed himself to his feet, stood there unsteadily for a moment, then just keeled over.

Sean was on his feet in an instant and managed to catch him. The boy was limp and heavy, out cold. Lifting him up and carrying him over to the bed, Sean lay him down on top of the covers, then sat down on the edge of the bed. The boy looked pale and hurt, and maybe not so much a boy as Sean had first thought. He'd been in a fight, or someone had beaten him. From the dark smudge under the eye that wasn't blackened, Sean guessed he hadn't slept in a while. His breathing sounded hollow and rough.

Going into the bathroom, Sean wet a washcloth with cold water then came back, settling on the edge of the bed again and laying it across the stranger's forehead. The boy stirred, eyelids fluttering open. Sean could read both confusion and fear on his face. "I'm sorry," he said weakly, and tried to sit up.

Sean laid a hand on his chest, but when the boy flinched under his touch, took it back. "It's all right. Not your fault. You fainted."

The boy raised a hand to the cloth and closed his eyes. "I have to go…"

"You don't," Sean said quietly. He imagined the boy must have a headache and didn't want to aggravate it further. "You can stay here and rest if you need to."

The boy made no response to that. His hand slowly dropped to the pillow beside his head. His breathing eased and evened out. Sean sat there watching until it seemed certain the boy had fallen asleep. He started to reach out, hesitated, then realizing he was being foolish, went ahead and removed the boy's glasses, carefully folding them and setting them on the bed stand.

The heat was oppressive. Sean forced himself up at last to turn on the ceiling fan, then stood for a moment in the breeze it made. The melancholy was slipping away. For the time being he let it go and got to work, putting away the groceries he'd bought.

For more than a year he'd existed, not really living, just carrying on as best he could, relying on settled routine to get him through one day and then the next. Sleep, wake, eat, drink. Work on the cabin, try to write, sit staring across the lake when there was nothing else he could bear to do. Things unexpected and unplanned for didn't happen. This was his safe place and no one had violated it, not for more than a year. It amazed him he wasn't freaked out, or at least annoyed by the intrusion on his solitude.

Compelled, he kept one eye on the boy, young man, he still wasn't sure. His guest could have been anywhere from sixteen to twenty-five. The bruises made him look both older and younger, depending on the light, or his expression, or Sean's own rambling thoughts on it. He could be running from the law. He could be trouble. Or he could just be _in_ trouble. Sean wanted to believe the latter. It had been more than a year since he'd had to deal with people, but he'd always had good instincts, and instinct told him that whatever trouble the young man asleep in his bed was running from, it wasn't of his own making. And he needed help.

Sean's mind backed off from that idea fast. It wasn't any of his concern, wasn't his responsibility. He could hear Daniel's voice in his head urging him not to take everything so personally. He couldn't take on everyone's problems when he hardly had his own in hand. He couldn't. He tore himself from watching the boy and pulled a couple of four gallon water jugs from under the sink to fill. He would do what he could do, get the boy's car running and offer him a meal, then see him on his way and be glad of it. The boy had left a ring of keys lying on the table. Sean picked them up and slipped them into his pocket.

There was a heavy stillness in the afternoon heat, a drowsy humming of cicadas seeming to vibrate the air. He walked with a determined stride, working harder than he needed to. His muscles strained against the weight of the jugs, sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. It was three or four, maybe later. Had he stood there that long just watching the boy sleep? He shouldn't have wasted that time. Night came early under the canopy of the wood, and he wasn't keen on sending off anyone into it who was unfamiliar with the lay of the land. The lane wasn't easy to follow in places even by daylight. And the kid's car wasn't meant for the rough terrain.

Sean set down the water jugs with a heavy thud, and popped open the hood. It was long cooled, or as cool as a half ton of metal could be on such a day. Mercifully, it was well shaded there. He unscrewed the radiator cap and hoisted one of the jugs to go about filling it. He could go ahead in the Jeep if it came to that, and show his guest to a road that would take him someplace. But if the boy slept into the night, what then? Sean growled at himself. What the hell did it matter? He would sleep on the couch and in the morning, the boy would go.

Pulling open the car's door, he threw himself half into the driver's seat and reached across to the passenger side window to roll it down, hoping to clear out the smoky smell that lingered. The smell brought Daniel to his mind's eye. Sean could see him leaning on the porch rail, staring off into the woods, a secret smile on his lips and a cigarette dangling delicately from his long fingers. The image was a sweet one, and the irony of that made Sean's jaw clench. He fumbled the key into the ignition, turned it, and the engine started reluctantly with a sputter and a whine.

Sean pulled himself fully into the seat, shut the door, and put it in drive. He knew immediately the car wasn't going very far. It tracked like a drunken mule, as his Dad might have said. Bent axle. Had to be. He very nearly threw back his head and laughed, which was scary. What he felt was a prickle of panic creeping up the back of his neck. But to his surprise, he realized there was a little spark of something beyond the panic that opened its eyes with anticipation.

It took all of his attention maneuvering the car over that last quarter mile. But when he'd parked it and turned off the engine, he just sat there staring up at the cabin. Was it curiosity? Was it possible he'd come to miss having someone around? Having someone to talk to? Sean balked at the notion. Was he out of his mind? He shoved open the door and hauled himself out, and marched back around the lane to the Jeep. He threw the empty jugs into the back and drove it home.

The boy had curled himself into a ball, in spite of the heat. Sean put down his first load from the Jeep, and rewet the cloth to lay against the back of his neck. He twitched in his sleep and breathed a catchy sigh, a sheen of sweat on his pale skin. Sean had to tear himself away again. He spent the next hour or so unloading the Jeep and packing everything away, working as quietly as he could.

It wasn't as bad as all that. He could drive the boy to Littleton and loan him a little money if necessary, for a hotel or whatever he needed to get where he was going. Sean would have the car for collateral. Ha. It didn't matter. That kind of help he could afford to give. He turned on the light over the kitchen sink when dusk fell, then busied himself starting a pot of soup to simmer. When that was done, he indulged himself in a badly needed shower.

That was all he'd intended, just to ease out the kinks and get clean. But he stood there in the steam with the water pelting his tensed shoulders, and the knot in his gut just swelled and tightened. It wasn't sexual, that feeling, but it slowly sank and lodged in his groin and made his balls ache. He hadn't gone a year and a half not touching himself, not hardly, but the past months he'd shied away from it. If he took a hand to himself, he'd have to think of Daniel, and he knew where that would lead.

Too late. Daniel was touching his hand and whispering in his ear. _"Love me one last time, my dearest one."_

His whole body flinched, as if he hadn't heard those words in his head a million times. All he had to do was close his eyes and Daniel was there with him. Fingers skimmed over his hard, slick thigh and curled snugly around his already ponderous erection. He braced his other hand on the slippery wall and hung his head. Daniel's thin, frail arms held to him, halting breath on his neck, barely a ghost of the beautiful body he'd so adored. But how Sean had loved him, even then. Nothing in his life had come closer to crushing him than that last time making love to Daniel. And that was what he had to cling to now. That was where his mind took him if he dared to think of relieving his need.

It wasn't his habit to fight it. Any memory of Daniel was precious to him. But he couldn't do it, couldn't risk dropping back into that hellish pit, not now. He had company. He couldn't fall apart. He had to let Daniel go. For a desperate few seconds, his mind conjured an image of the boy lying asleep in his bed beyond the wall, an impression of pale, damp skin and long, dark eyelashes. But that was just too damned wrong. He forcibly banished any such notion… and found himself lying all alone in their bed, awash in grief and trying to ease the agony the only way he could, with his dick in his fist, pumping for all he was worth.

It never did ease the pain. By the time it was done, he was drained and used up, and hurting inside, but no amount of tension could stand up to that kind of treatment. He unsteadily braced his feet apart, his knees weak and shaking, and struggled to catch his breath. The shower spray stung his back, the tepid water running rivulets over his neck and his face to stream from the end of his nose. His tears, along with the last dribble of his come, were washed away with his final pulsing. What little pleasure he derived from the release was fleeting.

Somehow, he roused up enough willpower to finish washing and drag himself from the shower into a towel. With the door closed, he found himself facing the full length mirror mounted to its back, and immediately saw Daniel standing in front of it, evaluating himself with a critical eye. It was another painful memory and Sean turned away to banish it. Leaning heavily on the cabinet, he stared at his face in the smaller mirror above the sink. He should be falling, the darkness closing over him, his heart so gripped with agony he couldn't breathe. But he was breathing still. He was on his feet. The lingering hurt was just sadness. Maybe knowing he couldn't fall apart was enough to give him the strength not to. How ironically simple a solution. An impulsive chuckle died on a puff of breath, as he dropped his eyes from the accusing glare of his friend in the mirror.

Almost defiantly, he wrenched open the medicine cabinet and took out his razor. He looked like a refugee from a Ewel Gibbons retreat. It was no wonder the kid had freaked on him. He meticulously shaved his face, then tore the towel from his waist to thoroughly dry his hair. He even took the time to run his fingers through it and put it in some kind of order. His reflection regarded him with a mournful expression, the natural state of things for too long now. He turned from the mirror with a sigh and got himself dressed, a sticky business with the humidity he'd added to the hot, heavy air. He smeared his freshly sweating brow on the sleeve of his clean shirt, turned off the light, and went out.

The ceiling fan whapped a lazy rhythm. The breeze made him shiver, the temperature dropping at last. He didn't even glance at the shadowed bed. He'd left a pot of soup bubbling on the stove. He didn't want it, his stomach still tight and unsettled. He turned off the burner and just slid the pot into the refrigerator and left it. He turned off the light, and the fan, and listened as the silence slowly descended, standing there feeling dead on his feet all of a sudden. Then he heard the boy's breathing, muffled but harsh and uneven.

Helplessly compelled, he walked over to the bedside and quietly opened the window shade a little to let in enough moonlight to see. The boy lay curled up with one arm over his face and his fist clenched in his hair, shivering and shaking. It was far from cold, but Sean carefully pulled over a blanket and covered him. He wasn't awake, Sean was sure, but caught in some nightmare. Sean didn't have nightmares, or dreams of any kind as far as he knew, not sleeping ones anyway, but he'd seen enough of his own hell to imagine. It might be a kindness to wake the boy from it, but he seemed to find ease on his own as Sean stood there dithering. The shaking lessened and his breathing evened out, and there was finally nothing Sean could do but go and settle himself on the couch.

The damned thing wasn't made for sleeping. At an unimpressive five foot five, Sean still couldn't stretch out his legs without hanging his feet over the armrest. Daniel's voice purred in his head. _"It's a loveseat, Seanie. It's supposed to be cozy."_

Sean flopped himself belly down and buried his face. Memories flooded his mind. Daniel's warm, naked body under his, the two of them trying it out. Daniel laughing breathlessly at his comic maneuvering in the small space. Daniel's tenderness, his sweet words of encouragement.

He wasn't going to let it get to him. Sean threw himself onto his back again with his heart thumping. He tucked up his knees and burrowed sideways into the cushions, trying to shut down. He could hear the boy breathing, softly now, hopefully at rest. He let his mind focus on that, let himself feel what it made him feel, comfort, to hear the sound of another person breathing in the night.


	3. Chapter 3

> **His tie is too tight, but he doesn't dare touch it. This is a real bow tie, not like the clip-ons they use at the restaurant, and he knows if it comes loose he'll never get it done up again because he doesn't know how to tie that kind of tie from scratch. Pedar tied it for him tonight, expertly, just like he does everything. He enjoyed feeling Pedar's body pressed up against his while he did it, the two of them standing in front of the mirror together. With Pedar's chin resting in his hair, they looked like one man with two heads, and the idea of it made him giggle. Pedar frowned at him, but was looking so sexy that he found himself reaching behind his back and stroking Pedar's cock, only to have Pedar slap his hand away with a gruff, "Not now. We have guests coming."**
> 
> He doesn't understand why he couldn't wear jeans, or even just a regular suit, but Pedar insisted it had to be a formal dinner, buying him a brand new tuxedo especially for the occasion. He thinks he looks stupid, and the tux makes him feel like he's in a straightjacket, but he forces himself to stop fidgeting as the guests arrive. Most are Pedar's age, but some are older, much older. He smiles as they come in, and takes their coats, trying to remember their names as he's introduced to them, but not having much luck.
> 
> Their eyes aren't friendly, but look at him as if he's a specimen under a microscope. He's not surprised. When Pedar insisted on having this party to introduce him, he knew Pedar's friends would be inspecting him, sizing him up, deciding if he's worthy. One of the older men -- the oldest by the look of him -- passes by him on his way to the living room, not even bothering to lower his voice when he says, "He's not even as beautiful as the last one."
> 
> It's deliberate, he knows. He's obviously meant to hear the comment, a reminder that he's not the first younger man Pedar's had in his life, and probably won't be the last. He can see it in their eyes. As far as they're concerned, there's no way he can ever be good enough for a man as intelligent and cultured as Pedar. But Pedar thinks he's good enough, and that's all that matters.
> 
> It's just a meal, but he's a nervous wreck. So many things to remember. How to unfold and place his linen napkin on his lap. Choosing the correct fork, the correct knife, the correct spoon. To only take small bites and not to speak until he's swallowed what's in his mouth. Pedar's been teaching him, but it's all so foreign to him. At home the napkins are paper, not cloth. There's only one fork, one knife, one spoon. And there's no conversation, just his father's disapproving looks across the table. But he wants to do his best, to make Pedar proud of him, and so far he thinks he's doing okay.
> 
> Jonathan, whom Pedar introduced as his oldest and closest friend, is seated between them, on Elijah's left, and Pedar's right. Halfway through the meal he proposes a toast, raising his champagne flute and declaring, "To my dear friend Pedar and his new love, Elijah. May you have all the happiness you deserve."
> 
> He raises his glass along with everyone else, but before he can drink, he feels a hand brush his leg, Jonathan's hand. He can see the man's right arm is under the table, but Jonathan's expression doesn't change while he holds his champagne in his left hand and continues his conversation with Pedar. He thinks maybe Jonathan was just reaching for his napkin, so he doesn't say anything. He takes a sip of his champagne, but as he's swallowing it, he feels Jonathan's hand slip into his lap and squeeze his cock. He jumps, spilling the expensive wine down the front of his starched white tuxedo shirt. There are smirks around the table, some polite coughs disguising discreet laughter. He feels his face flush, and when he looks at Pedar, there's a look he can't read. Disappointment? Anger?
> 
> "I'm sorry," he blurts out. "It went down the wrong way." Jonathan's right arm is out from under the table now and he's patting him lightly on the back, as if he's trying to help. "I'm fine," he insists, and moves as far away as he can without bumping into the man seated on his right. He remembers something he heard on tv once, _with friends like these, who needs enemies?_ and thinks whoever said it could have been talking about the men seated around the elegant table.
> 
> Dinner seems endless, but finally there's brandy and cigars, and at last, goodnights. He waits until Pedar closes the front door after the last guest is gone, then pulls on his tie, turning the perfect bow into the flat piece of black cloth it started out as. He heaves a sigh of relief and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. "I hope they liked me," he says.
> 
> Pedar turns around to face him, his expression unreadable. "You embarrassed me."
> 
> "Yeah, I know, but I couldn't help it."
> 
> "Couldn't help it? I spend hours teaching you how to behave in polite company, and you can't even sip champagne without spilling it all over yourself?"
> 
> Pedar's tone is so much like his father's, the similarity made all the more annoying by the fact that he doesn't deserve the blame. "It wasn't my fault. Your friend Jonathan--" He stops short when he sees Pedar's eye twitch.
> 
> "What about Jonathan?"
> 
> He knows bringing up Jonathan's name is a mistake, but now that he's done it he has no choice but to go on. He swallows hard and says, "He--he touched me under the table."
> 
> Pedar's expression barely changes, just a slight raising of his eyebrows. "Touched you?"
> 
> He nods. "He grabbed my cock and I jumped. That's why I spilled the champagne."
> 
> "Jonathan is my closest friend. He would never do such a thing, and especially not when he was a guest in my home."
> 
> "But he did, Pedar, I swear. I wouldn't lie about something like that."
> 
> "I believe you." Pedar moves toward him and gently kisses his lips. "Jonathan is an admirer of beauty, as I am, and a man's indiscretion can be forgiven if he's merely accepting an invitation."
> 
> It takes him a few seconds to realize what Pedar is accusing him of. "Invitation? You make it sound like I asked for it."
> 
> "Didn't you?" Pedar asks, but before he can answer, Pedar goes on. "It's not your fault. I was foolish to think I could turn a slut into a gentleman."
> 
> "I'm not a slut," he insists, but Pedar's too caught up in his fantasy to listen to reason.
> 
> "I'm sure mine wasn't the first head you turned in those tight black pants. The way you brushed up against me when you took my order, making sure I noticed the merchandise. How many other customers' beds did you insinuate yourself into before the night I came into the restaurant?"
> 
> "How many.......?" He can't believe what he's hearing. "There wasn't anyone before you, Pedar. You were my first. You know that."
> 
> Pedar's laughter is cruel. "You played the virgin very well, very convincingly, but I'm not a fool, Elijah."
> 
> He shakes his head. "But--but it's true. I was....you were--"
> 
> The blow comes out of nowhere, a vicious backhand, and suddenly he's on his ass and Pedar's standing over him, eyes wild with fury. "I won't be lied to!"
> 
> He can taste blood in his mouth, and when he speaks, his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. "I'm not lying--" he starts, but before he can finish he's being pulled up by his champagne-stained shirt, and this time the hand that hits him isn't flat, but curled into a fist. Blood spurts from his nose, dripping down onto the shirt, turning the stark white to crimson. He tries to wipe it away but another blow follows, then another and another until all he can do is just lie back and let the darkness swallow him.

Elijah bolted upright, his heart pounding, the metallic taste rising in his throat. His fingers gripped the sheets as his mind worked through the fear, and he forced himself to take slow, deep breaths until his heartbeat had returned to normal. Comforted by the stillness surrounding him, he unclenched his fingers and lay back down. It had been a dream. Just a fucking dream.

Now that he was fully awake, he realized he had no idea where he was, or even how he'd gotten there. Elijah searched his mind, trying to remember what had happened.

Hannah. He'd talked to Hannah, told her about Pedar, gotten upset and run out of the store, then...

He'd hit something in the road and lost control of the car, then...

There had been a house—no...a cabin. He'd followed a path and seen it, gone inside, figuring he could use the phone, but there hadn't been a phone. He'd sat down to rest and then he'd...

Fallen asleep? Passed out?

Feeling behind his neck, he found a still-damp washcloth. There were vague memories of a man---

Elijah sat up again, panicked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, checking the billfold and counting the money. It was still there, all of it. Relief flooded him. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and the room started spinning, but he closed his eyes and after a moment, felt steady enough to stand.

It was barely light, but he could make out a blurry figure across the room. He found his glasses, folded neatly on the bedside table. When he slipped them on, things came into sharp focus. There was a man lying on a couch of some kind, close to the front door. The man was asleep, snoring softly but steadily.

Elijah moved toward the door slowly. Every creak of the floorboards made him inhale sharply. He was sure the sleeping man would hear the noise, wake up and try to stop him from leaving. But the man slept on, and Elijah was able to make it outside onto the porch.

He was surprised to see Dom's car out front. The man must have driven it there. All Elijah had to do was take off before the guy woke up and he wouldn't have to answer any questions. He climbed down the porch steps, went to the car and stuck his head inside the open driver's side window. No keys. He checked his pockets, but there was no key ring. What the fuck! The guy still had his keys? Now he'd have to go back inside and find them.

When Elijah reached the porch's top step he was hit by such a wave of dizziness he thought sure he was going to fall. The front door swam before his eyes, and he dropped down onto the step, holding onto the railing for support, praying he wouldn't pass out again.

An overhead light suddenly came on, bathing the porch in yellow, and sending a blinding pain through Elijah's head. He shaded his eyes with his hand and the light was quickly extinguished. "Better?" asked a soft voice behind him.

Elijah didn't turn. "Yeah," he said through gritted teeth. "Thanks." There was a sound like the jingling of bells, and when Elijah turned around, he saw the man standing just outside the door, Elijah's keys dangling from his fingertips.

"Sorry about that," the man said in that same soft voice. "I stuck them in my pocket." He held out the keys. "Here you are." When Elijah didn't reach for them he asked, "Aren't you going to take them? You _did_ want to leave, didn't you?"

The man was Elijah's height, but stockier, well-built, solid. Elijah had never been very good at judging people's ages, but thought the guy might be thirty-five. His brown hair was mussed from sleep and badly in need of cutting. The eyes that studied him might have been green -- Elijah couldn't tell for sure --but what he saw in them was concern rather than suspicion.

Elijah looked down, unable to face him. "I didn't want to wake you," he mumbled. It was a lame excuse and Elijah regretted it. A lie didn't seem right somehow, not after the man had been so kind to him. He bit down on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have tried sneaking out like that. I -- ah..." He swallowed hard. "I just didn't know what to say to you."

The man appeared not to take offence. "No need to be sorry," he said. "I don't think there's a standard line to use after fainting in a stranger's house."

Elijah winced at the word fainting. It made him sound like the girl in some 50's horror movie, or worse yet, like the heroine in one of those long, boring British novels he'd had to read in English class. He'd _fainted_. It was humiliating.

The man seemed to feel Elijah's discomfort, and quickly changed the subject. "You can take your keys, but they won't do you much good, I'm afraid. Your car's not in any shape to go anywhere." At Elijah's stricken expression he added, "Bent axle's my guess. I could barely steer it well enough to get it here. You must have hit something in the road."

"There _was_ something," Elijah said, remembering the big bump. He'd hit it with such force that his hands had been jerked off the steering wheel and he'd barely managed to keep the car from going off the narrow road. "I didn't see whatever it was. I guess I was pretty tired."

The man's face showed the barest trace of a smile. "Exhausted is more like it. You were sleeping when I found you, and you probably slept another ten hours after I put you to bed." Elijah's face flushed with embarrassment, but the man pretended not to notice. "How long since you had anything to eat?" he asked.

Elijah shook his head. "I don't remember."

"Then it's been too long. My Dad always says, _'The world looks better with a full belly.'_ I was about to make breakfast. Come inside and join me. After you've eaten, you can decide what you're going to do."

Elijah nodded and stood up, but before he could take a step, the wave of dizziness returned. He swayed, but the man reached out quickly and grabbed him before he could fall. Elijah immediately tried to pull away, but though the hands holding him loosened their grip, they didn't let go.

"Stop it," the man ordered. "I'm not going to hurt you." Elijah heard no trace of anger. The man hadn't even raised his voice, yet there was authority in it. "It's all right," he went on, more gently, "you don't have to be afraid. You're safe here." Elijah stopped struggling and allowed the man to help him inside.

When Elijah sat down at the table, taking the same chair as he had before, he was sure he saw a hint of sadness in the man's eyes. It was gone in an instant, and he busied himself with making breakfast. He worked quickly, gathering his ingredients, taking out dishes and pans, and soon the smell of frying bacon filled the room.

"Since we'll be having breakfast together," the man said over his shoulder, "I think it's time we were introduced. My name is Sean." When he received no reply, he turned to face Elijah. "If you don't want to tell me your real name that's fine, but I'd like to be able to call you _something_."

Elijah frowned. "If you looked through my wallet you already know--" he began, but stopped when he saw Sean's face. It was obvious from the man's expression that the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "I'm sorry," Elijah apologized. "I just thought..." He stopped before he could make things worse. "My name is Elijah."

Sean nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Elijah. How do you like your eggs?"

Flustered by the unexpected question, Elijah blurted out, "Uh--scrambled."

Sean smiled. "Good. That's how I like mine, too."

He went back to work, and Elijah tensed, waiting for the questions he knew would follow. _Who are you? Where did you come from? What happened to you?_

But they didn't come.

_That's it?_ Elijah wondered. _How do you like your eggs?_ Apparently it was. Sean's attention seemed to be focused on the job at hand, as if he had forgotten Elijah was there. Elijah watched him as he worked, admiring the ease with which he maneuvered around the small space, the economy of his movements as he cracked eggs one-handed into a bowl, added milk, a dash of salt and pepper, then whipped them briskly before dumping the mixture into the sizzling cast-iron skillet.

Elijah watched, fascinated but confused. He didn't get it. It just didn't make sense. He had come uninvited into this stranger's home, and the man had treated him with kindness rather than fear, had taken care of him when he'd fainted, had even given Elijah his bed for the night. All without knowing who Elijah was, or what trouble he might be in. And although there had been ample chance for the man to find out the answers while Elijah was asleep, he hadn't considered it necessary to do so.

Pedar would have been far less generous. He would have struck out first and asked questions later, and Elijah's father...if he'd been a stranger and wandered into Warren's house uninvited, Elijah knew he'd be in jail right now.

But Sean had been gentle with Elijah, had shown him compassion, respect and caring. And now, in the cold light of day, it seemed he was planning to continue to do so by offering his uninvited guest breakfast.

Elijah's thoughts were interrupted by the plate of eggs and bacon that was placed before him, along with a steaming mug of coffee and two pieces of buttered toast. Sean sat down opposite him with his own plate and mug and started eating. When Elijah hesitated, he gestured with his fork and said, "Dig in before it gets cold."

He wasn't sure the first bite was going to stay down, but when it did, Elijah took another, then another, washing them down with the strong, black coffee. He waited expectantly, but when the questions still didn't come, Elijah said softly, "Thank you...for helping me."

"You're welcome."


	4. Chapter 4

They had their breakfast in silence for the most part, though there was anything but silence in Sean's head. If he seemed calm, and he hoped he did, it was only on the surface. There were questions that needed asking, plenty of them. But he found himself holding them back. The boy sat on the edge of his chair, looking as if he were poised for flight, and Sean didn't want to give him any reason to run. The boy…he had a name, _Elijah_. He seemed relieved not to be asked, and Sean was willing to let his questions wait.

Elijah. What a great name, very old-world. It didn't go with his unruly hair and his beat up red sneakers though, or the ragged blue jeans with the rips at the knees. He wasn't as young as he'd first appeared, Sean didn't think, was maybe twenty-two or twenty-three. But that still put a good ten years between them. Out of nowhere, Daniel prodded him. _We had fifteen. You know it doesn't matter._ Before he could insist to himself that wasn't what he was thinking, Elijah raised those blue eyes and met his, straight across the table.

Sean blinked first, dropping his gaze. He didn't need Daniel whispering to him that this young man was everything he found physically appealing. He was small-boned and pretty. He was short. Daniel laughed at him. Sean told himself again that it didn't mean anything. It had just been so long since he'd had anyone to look at, to consider, even if only from a theoretical standpoint. There was a twinge of guilt, of course there was. It was only in his head, but he knew he shouldn't even be thinking it. His heart was Daniel's.

Elijah wasn't having much luck with his breakfast. He'd taken a few bites and had a few sips of coffee, but seemed to have given up. He still held his fork, but was only pushing the food around on his plate.

Sean asked, "Would you like something different?" The boy looked up, but seemed distracted and unsure of what had been said. Sean elaborated. "Would you like oatmeal, maybe some dry cereal? I just stocked up so I've got fresh milk. You don't need to be shy, there's plenty of everything."

Elijah looked a little squeamish, and put down his fork. "I guess I'm not very hungry."

It seemed more likely to Sean that he was unwell. His face was very pale, and Sean had seen the trembling in his hand when he'd put down the fork. The boy looked self-conscious, picking up his coffee, and just said he was fine. Sean tore his eyes away and fixed his attention on his own breakfast. Silence fell as he finished eating. He managed not to stare, but couldn't stop himself glancing at the boy.

It was different, not having to look up to meet Elijah's eyes the way he'd always had to when Daniel occupied that chair. Daniel had been taller, lean and lanky, in absurd contrast to Sean's own size and build. Daniel's friends had found that quite the joke. He could hear Rutherford's words to Daniel. _"I thought fishermen were supposed to throw the little ones back"_ had been the kindest. The crudest? _"We know how much you like to 69, Danny. Guess you'll have to settle for 68-1/2 now."_ Daniel would only laugh and tell Sean they were just jealous, later, alone with him, wrapping those long legs around Sean's waist and taking him in like nothing else in the world would satisfy. Their jibes had never bothered Sean much. He and Daniel had been a perfect fit in all the ways that mattered, two halves of a whole, and even now, after a year, Sean still felt lost and incomplete without him.

Sean didn't often say it, even to himself, but he knew too well that Daniel was just a memory of a voice in his head. Daniel was gone. He'd let even his memory of Daniel go, the night before in the shower, long enough to imagine he might be able to feel that way again, about someone else. It didn't matter that the debate was all in his head. He was thinking these things, after he'd stubbornly sworn to Daniel he wouldn't. _My poor love, I don't want you to be alone._ Daniel had told him that, over and over again in those last few days. But he'd refused to listen, didn't want to hear it. There had been times his sanity depended on believing Daniel still needed and wanted him, that Daniel would be waiting for him. He wasn't about to give that up, not over some hapless stranger unwittingly crossing his path and rousing in him longings he'd left for dead.

It suddenly seemed more imperative than ever to get the boy on his feet and on his way. Sean needed to stop looking and feeling, and keep himself on an even keel. "The way I see it," he said at last, "you've got two choices. You can have the car fixed, or you can leave it and find alternate transportation."

The boy looked ill. "Leave it? I can't. It's all I have, and I need it to get away---"

Sean pretended not to notice how abruptly Elijah had cut himself off, and didn't take advantage of the lapse. "You'll want to get it fixed then," he said, "but it may take a while. Nearest mechanic is about thirty miles away. I'll drive you there and you can make arrangements to have him pick up the car and tow it back to the garage."

Elijah nodded, but seemed unsure. Sean could surmise that money was probably an issue. Well, he could help with that if need be. He was about to say so when the boy abruptly shoved himself up from the table and made a shaky dash into the bathroom.

Sean sat like a stone and listened, to the creaking of the door's hinges, and the sound of retching, Elijah throwing up his breakfast, what little he'd gotten down. Resolving to keep his distance took Sean just about that far. The kid was sick. He pushed himself up and went to the bathroom door. Elijah was just sinking down against the wall beside the toilet, looking like he might pass out again.

Sean snagged a clean towel from the shelves and wet it with cool water at the sink, then offered it to the boy. Elijah took it and wiped his whole face with it, dropping his hands to his lap finally with a breathy sigh. Sean crouched down to look at his face, and hesitantly reached out a hand. "Can I feel your forehead? Don't have a thermometer." The boy didn't say he couldn't, so Sean pressed a palm to his damp brow. He had a fever, not a bad one, but still, a head injury with vomiting and fever wasn't something to be careless about. "You should be in a hospital."

"No," Elijah said sharply, then put both hands to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its edge. "I'm okay. It's better. I shouldn't have eaten, that's all."

Sean felt really bad, knowing he should have fixed something easier on an empty stomach, but he didn't think that was all there was to it. "Elijah," he said, softly, imploringly. "You're hurt. You should see a doctor. I'll take you."

Elijah's eyes flew open. "No!" he gasped. "No hospital!" Sean could hear that same icy fear behind the words. "They'll call! He'll find me!" The boy caught Sean's arm and gripped it. "Please...no hospital."

Helpless to resist, Sean gave in, though against his better judgment. "All right, no hospital, but if you won't see a doctor, you've at least got to take it easy." Without a thought to the consequences, like the decision had already been made and he'd just been arguing to hear himself argue, he added, "You can stay here until you're feeling better."

Elijah's eyes met his, a look both relieved and wary on his battered face. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked, as if he couldn't comprehend such kindness.

It was simple enough to Sean. "It seemed you could use some nice, and it looks like I've got some to spare." Maybe, after all, that was all it was. Nothing soothed the soul like doing good for someone in need. "Feeling better?" Elijah nodded a little. Sean dropped the toilet seat and flipped the flush lever, then helped the boy to his feet and back out to the table. Once settled into his chair again, Elijah picked up his coffee mug and brought it to his lips with shaking hands. Sean went to the refrigerator and poured a glass of cold water, then took it back to the table and set it down in front of the boy. "You want something for that headache?"

Elijah shook his head gingerly. "I'm okay." He slid his coffee aside and wrapped his hands around the glass, but instead of drinking from it, pressed it against his forehead.

It was early and not all that hot yet, but Sean turned on the ceiling fan before settling back into his chair. "You can lie down. Get some more sleep."

Elijah raised his face to the breeze from the fan and said again, "I'm okay."

Sean hoped he was. "I'll drive into town and call the garage this afternoon. There's no need for you to go."

Elijah gave him a look that was pained, but resigned, and nodded slightly. Morning light filled the corners now and the boy glanced around uneasily, taking things in. "Sure is quiet here." Sean took a swallow of his lukewarm coffee, listening. Peaceful was the word he would have chosen. There was the hum of the generator, though they were well insulated from it there. A mockingbird was trying out its voice in the distance, squirrels were chittering, and there was a whisper of leaves rustling in the trees. _Good noise_, he thought, and was about to say so when Elijah added, "It's creepy."

Sean smiled and took another sip from his cup. It had taken him time to get used to it again after ten years living the urban life with Daniel. "You must be a city boy." He didn't mean it as a question, wasn't looking for answers, not really.

The boy reacted with a cautious, darting look and said nothing. Reaching into the pocket of his rumpled Army surplus shirt, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He put one of the slim smokes between his lips and prepared to light it, then hesitated, looking up at Sean as if waiting for permission.

It made the hair stand on end at the back of Sean's neck, but it really wasn't any of his business. "You can smoke," he said. "Outside." If Sean had thought the boy might choose his need for rest over his need for a cigarette, it was a miscalculation. Elijah pushed himself to his feet unsteadily and headed for the door. With a twinge, Sean let him go, and went about clearing the table. He piled the dishes in the sink to wash later, then rummaged in the back of the cabinet drawer. It was full of things he never wanted to see again, but couldn't bear to throw away. His fingers touched the smooth glass of Daniel's favorite ashtray and he pulled it out.

The sun was slanting through the trees, a light breeze on the air. Sean opened the door and stepped out barefoot onto the shade dappled porch. Elijah was leaning on the rail, shoulders slumped. Sean brushed off the slatted seats of the two lounge chairs, and sat himself down in Daniel's. The boy glanced around at him and Sean said, "Sit down," calmly and quietly, only suggesting. The boy came and sat in the other chair. Sean handed him the ashtray. "I'd rather not have butts tossed around."

Those big, blue eyes grew bigger still. "Yeah. Sure."

"We're in a dry spell," Sean explained, "goes with the heat wave. I don't want my woods going up in flames."

Elijah swept an uneasy glance at the thick tangle of trees and brush all around them and muttered, "Shit." He turned back to Sean. "Scary place to live."

Sean shrugged, waving a hand toward the path through the trees westward. "There's a lake right out there. And I've got a waterproof box for what's important. I'm covered." The boy didn't look entirely convinced. He took a hit off his cigarette, tucking himself up into the chair, moving slowly like he was stiff and sore. Sean thought of suggesting again that he lie down and rest, but let it go for the time being. "Odd aroma. What is that?"

Elijah pulled out his crumpled cigarette pack again. "It's clove." He stuck the pack back in his pocket with a sigh. "I'm almost out. Guess I won't be able to find them out here in the boonies." The boy wrapped his arms around his knees, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

Sean sat there watching him, thinking it through. Elijah was terrified of going to a hospital, but why? Because when they saw he'd been beaten, they'd have to bring the police into it? Or simply because hospitals kept records. Something told Sean it wasn't the police Elijah was afraid of. "He'll find me!" he'd said. Not they, but _he_. Sean was sure now that he'd been right about the boy. Elijah wasn't running from the law, but from someone else, most likely whoever had used his face for a punching bag.

The bruises were subdued in that light and Sean let himself look past them to the boy's pale, perfect face, the striking features not chiseled but brush-stroked, the proud jaw line and the fine arch of dark brows, the handsome nose, the beautiful mouth. Sean shook his head and looked away. Overlay all of that with those sad, haunted eyes, and it was almost too much to bear. How could anyone look at such a face and take a fist to it?

The sun broke the tree line and streamed into the clearing. Sean leaned forward to shade Elijah's face from it. He was thinking things he shouldn't, again, and he was sure to regret it if he didn't stop now. A warm breeze touched his cheek and Daniel was there, putting a soft, ghostly voice to his own thoughts. _What are you going to do, Seanie?_

It was a fair question, but one he couldn't begin to answer. Elijah looked like he'd fallen asleep, the cigarette between his fingers mostly smoked down, but still trailing a thin wisp of smoke. Sean reached out to take it from him and put it out, his fingers brushing Elijah's as he did so. The boy jumped, his eyes opening instantly. Sean quickly pulled back his hand. "Sorry. Thought you were sleeping."

Elijah shook his head, perspiration glistening on his upper lip, a wild look in his eye. "No. I can't."

Sean felt that nightmare fear from the boy. He held his voice level and calm. "It's all right. Just didn't want you to burn yourself."

Elijah looked at the smoking butt, nodded, and stubbed it out thoroughly in the ashtray, then slid the ashtray under his chair.

"The sun'll be over the awning soon, and it would be a shame to waste all this good fresh air, but you can go inside if you're too hot."

Elijah nodded again, seeming sincerely grateful, and settled in his chair. "That's okay," he said. "I'm fine here."


	5. Chapter 5

After only a few minutes of quietly communing with nature, Elijah began to fidget, tapping each of his feet in turn, the thick rubber soles of his sneakers producing faint thumps on the slats of the wooden chair with each of his impromptu dance steps. He wondered how anyone could possibly enjoy living out in the woods, away from civilization. Elijah had never taken much notice of the sounds of traffic, or the roar of jet engines as they flew overhead, but now he found himself missing them. This much silence wasn't natural. What he was missing more than anything else was his music. It had only been a day since he'd last heard any, but it seemed like forever.

Sean didn't have a telephone, so he probably didn't have a television either, or even a radio. How could he stand living out here with nothing to do but watch the grass grow? It had only been one day and the quiet was already making Elijah jumpy. The heat was almost unbearable, adding to Elijah's discomfort, but as far as he could tell, it didn't seem to bother Sean. He looked perfectly comfortable sitting there, totally at ease, as if he had all the time in the world and absolutely nothing else he needed to be doing.

Elijah still felt nauseous, and wondered if deciding to stay out on the porch had been such a good idea after all. He thought he might have to throw up again, and wasn't sure he would be able to make it to the bathroom in time from so far away. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he wiped it with his shirt sleeve, then ran his fingers through his thick, tousled hair. It was hot, but it wasn't the heat as much as the waiting that was making Elijah's stomach churn. He had never been very good at waiting for the other shoe to drop, and this one had been dangling by a thread since Sean had found him in the cabin. The man had to want to know where Elijah came from and what had happened to him, but if he had questions, why hadn't he asked them? Was it possible Sean was waiting for a chance to catch him off guard? Elijah quickly dismissed the idea. A man who'd help a stranger, who'd feed him and give him a place to sleep without a second thought wasn't devious. A bit naive, in Elijah's opinion, and maybe a little too trusting for his own good. Elijah remembered that the cabin door hadn't even been locked when he got there, but maybe that kind of trust came from living out in the country.

Elijah considered lighting another cigarette, just to give himself something to do with his hands, but he only had a few left and wanted to save them for as long as he could, so instead began to drum his fingers on the arms of the chair. When he saw Sean lean forward, looking like he was determined to ask one of those questions Elijah was dreading, Elijah blurted out, "So is this your family's place?"

"In a way," Sean answered, and Elijah saw it again, that brief look of sadness in the man's eyes. But it was gone just as quickly as before. "Actually, my family lives on a farm, in Iowa."

"A real farm?" Elijah asked, his eyes wide with surprise. "Like with cows and chickens and stuff?"

The look of wonder on the boy's face made Sean smile. "Yes, a real farm," he answered. "I helped my Dad work it while I was growing up, right until the day I went away to college."

Elijah gestured to the surrounding woods. "Guess that's why you like living out here in the middle of nowhere." He winced and said, "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean---"

"It's all right," Sean told him. "I like the solitude, but it's not for everyone."

Elijah found he was glad that his remark hadn't offended Sean. "So who helps on the farm now?"

"My brother Mack."

"He a farmer like your Dad?"

"He's going on thirty, but he hasn't decided _what_ he is yet." Sean sighed, looking a little exasperated. "Mack's too much of a dreamer."

"You've gotta have dreams, man!" Elijah said with more emotion than he'd intended. "They're what get you through the days when everything's so fucked up you think you can't go on---" Elijah swallowed hard and let the rest of his words go unspoken. "What about your Mom?" he asked in an attempt to distract Sean. "Does she work on the farm, too?"

"Of course. Plus she works at the local library."

Elijah frowned. "I'll bet she made you read a lot of books when you were a kid, huh?"

Sean chuckled. "Mom never had to force me. I've always loved books. Still do." He looked inquiringly at Elijah. "You don't enjoy reading?"

"Not so much."

"That's too bad."

Elijah knew a response was expected and settled for, "Yeah, I guess." He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Can't get used to these," he murmured.

"You just started wearing them?"

Elijah put his glasses back on. "No, I've had to wear them since I was a kid. Everything's a big blur without them, but for the last two years I've been wearing contacts."

"You got contacts because you didn't like the way you look in glasses?" Sean asked.

Elijah shook his head. "It wasn't that. I never minded looking like a geek..."

> **"I can't believe the gall of that fool Carlton," Pedar said disgustedly, becoming more and more agitated as he drove them home from the restaurant. "_'I didn't know you had a thing for geeks.'_ The smug bastard. If he wasn't one of our biggest clients...." **
> 
> "It's not the first time someone's called me that," Elijah smiled, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "It's these glasses, but please don't be pissed, Pedar. What he said doesn't bother me."
> 
> "But it bothers _me_," Pedar answered, his voice rising. "A man in my position can't be held up to that kind of ridicule. You're not to wear those ugly glasses again, Elijah, do you understand? I won't have anything mar your beauty when you're out with me."
> 
> "You don't want me to wear my glasses?" Elijah asked in confusion. "But you know I can't see anything without them."
> 
> "That won't be a problem," Pedar told him.
> 
> The next morning Elijah sat in the office of the city's most respected ophthalmologist and got his first pair of contact lenses.

  
"Elijah?" Someone was calling his name from far away. "Elijah, are you all right?"

Slowly the mist cleared and Elijah let Sean's voice lead him back to the present. He found he'd been holding his breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah, I'm--I'm fine," he said in a shaky voice, then frowned. "What were we talking about......? Oh yeah...contacts. It was just better for me to get them. I still wear my glasses sometimes, if my eyes get irritated, but I really like the contacts. I'll be using them again, as soon as...." As soon as it doesn't hurt to put them in, he'd wanted to say, but couldn't, so he left his thought unfinished.

Sean's concern seemed momentarily eased, but he still watched Elijah with a wary expression on his face. Elijah could tell he suspected that there was more to the story, but still he didn't ask. Neither spoke for several minutes, then Sean finally broke the silence. "Elijah's a name you don't hear much anymore," he said. "More contemporary names have replaced the old-fashioned ones. Biblical names have been all but forgotten."

"Not in my family," Elijah corrected him. He hadn't planned on going any further, but decided sharing that kind of information couldn't do any harm. "I have a brother named Zachariah and a sister named Hannah."

"Your mother must be very religious," Sean surmised.

"Not really," Elijah told him. "She took us to church, but I think it was mostly to please my father. I'm sure the names were his idea. I guess he thought having names from the Bible would help us grow up to be the kind of adults he could be proud of."

"And I'm sure he is proud."

"Of Zach and Hannah, yeah."

"But not you?"

"Not hardly."

Sean looked puzzled. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Elijah repeated, unable to disguise the bitterness in his voice. "Because even a name from his precious Bible couldn't make me into the kind of man he thought I should be." And before he could stop them, the words were out. "I'm gay."

****

For long seconds, Sean felt like he'd been kicked in the head. All he could see were those big, blue eyes. All he could think, around the buzz in his brain, was that he'd only heard what his fool subconscious wanted to hear. But the boy looked away suddenly, looked down, looked like he _had_ said it and wished he hadn't. Sean's next lucid thought made him lean forward in his chair. "Elijah…" Did he really want to ask such a thing? He felt like he had to. "Was it your Dad that gave you the bruises?"

Elijah looked at him, wide-eyed, and quickly looked away again. "No."

Sean regretted asking. It wasn't any of his business, wasn't his responsibility. He slid back in his chair and defensively crossed his arms over his chest, like he could fend off the needy vibes the boy seemed to exude, or hold in his impulse to want to reach out and somehow make it better. Elijah tucked himself up even tighter, if that was possible, body language speaking volumes. Sean had crossed a line he shouldn't have, and the boy was on full alert again.

Sean found himself on his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I should go to town and call the garage." He needed to do some heavy thinking, and the sooner the better. He glanced at the kid's car. "Hey, you want your CDs? I saw you had a player." Elijah looked up at him with a guarded expression. Sean said, "I'll get them for you."

With conflicting emotions seeming to play across his features, Elijah said, "You don't have to."

Sean offered him a smile. "It'll give you something to do."

Elijah cautiously and quietly said, "Thanks." He'd stopped fidgeting and sat now with his chin on his knees, limply hugging his shins, making Sean think of a child's windup toy that had run down. He stared out over the porch rail with his pale brow furrowed, looking like that again, like he was a million miles away.

Sean backed off, and stepped inside to grab his sandals, then went out and brought up the kid's Walkman and CD case. Elijah uncurled himself to take them, and thanked him again, a little more warmly. Sean was sincerely relieved. "It might take me an hour and a half, two at the most. You can make yourself at home, eat if you feel like it, maybe clean up a little?"

Elijah looked at him, realization dawning. "Shit." He sniffed an armpit and grimaced. "I really stink, don't I?"

Sean was sorry he'd mentioned it. "You don't stink. I just thought you might feel better if you washed up, that's all." The boy made a face and with some effort, dragged himself from his chair.

"No, I fucking stink. I need a shower."

Sean shook his head at the profanity, but said nothing, not even sure why it disturbed him. Because it didn't sound right coming from that angel's face, he supposed. But that also was none of his business. He followed Elijah inside, wanting to reach out and steady him when he swayed, but the boy put a hand on the door frame and then pushed himself on, and Sean kept his hands to himself. He showed the boy where everything was, soap and towels and anything else he might want, and offered to help when he just stood there. "If you're still dizzy and need a hand… "

Elijah stepped back, wrapping his arms around himself. "I can do it."

"All right." Sean went out and closed the door. He felt compelled to stand there and listen, but there wasn't anything to hear. All he could do was imagine, and that was only going to drag him in deeper. He tore himself away and left.

*****

It wasn't until he heard the sound of Sean's jeep driving away that Elijah was able to breathe freely again. He was standing with his back against the door and now closed his eyes, letting his head drop back against the mirror with a thud, but his relief was short-lived. _I'm gay._ What the fuck was wrong with him, just blurting it out like that? His father had told him often enough that he never thought before he spoke, and Elijah had just proven him right. He could have let Sean's Biblical names remark pass, but no, he had to mention Warren, had to dredge up all the old pain and let his anger get the best of him. Elijah slammed a fist against the mirror, cursing his own stupidity. You just didn't tell some stranger you were gay, especially when you were alone with him, stuck out in the middle of nowhere. For all Elijah knew, Sean could be a fucking homophobe like his old man, but something told him Sean wasn't like that.

At first Elijah couldn't read Sean's expression. He'd expected to see distaste or disgust on Sean's face, maybe even anger, but what he saw was confusion, as if Sean wasn't sure what he'd heard. Then Elijah saw Sean's face change, watched him register the meaning of the words, then quickly make the connection between Elijah's religious father and the bruises on his face. The idea that Elijah's father might have been responsible seemed to shock Sean, almost pain him. Elijah hadn't expected Sean to come right out and ask him if his father had beaten him, and was relieved he hadn't had to lie about it. Warren wasn't responsible for his bruises, at least not this time, so he was glad he'd been able to tell Sean no.

And even after what he'd heard, Sean's main concern still seemed to be Elijah, following behind him into the cabin to make sure he didn't fall, seeing that he had everything he needed for his shower, even offering to help him if he didn't feel strong enough to do it on his own. While the Bible stories he'd been read all through his childhood talked about good samaritans, Elijah never believed they really existed, but now he'd actually met one. Yesterday, Elijah wouldn't have believed such a thing was possible, but maybe Sean was exactly what he appeared to be: a genuinely good man. Kind. Generous. Honest. Well not totally honest, Elijah thought. Even though Sean had been too tactful to admit it, Elijah knew he really did smell awful.

He unlaced his sneakers and pushed them off from the heels, then peeled off his sweaty socks and tossed them and the sneakers toward the door. His shirt came off next, then his jeans and boxers, all of which joined the socks and sneakers in a pile on the floor. Elijah lifted the toilet seat and emptied his bladder. He hadn't been drinking enough, so there wasn't much more than a trickle, but it was nice to be able to pee indoors again rather than stopping by the side of the road when it was dark enough that he wouldn't be seen. He flushed the toilet and after setting his glasses on the sink, headed for the shower.

There was no tub, just a stall, but turning on the shower and stepping under the nozzle felt wonderful. He wasn't used to cold showers (Pedar always insisted the water be kept at 90 degrees), so despite the heat, Elijah kept the water at a warm temperature. For a few moments he did nothing but stand there with his eyes closed, letting the water cascade down his body, and promising himself he'd never take showering for granted again. Then he got down to business.

A little wire basket attached to the tiled wall of the stall held only two items: soap and shampoo. It was bar soap, the cake worn down to half of what its normal size would have been. Elijah brought it to his nose and breathed in the fresh, outdoorsy scent. Sean didn't go for anything perfumed or overpowering, it seemed. It was a far cry from Pedar's master bath, where the shelves were lined with fragrant toiletries. Sean apparently went for simple and understated, which made sense for a man who lived in the woods. Even his choice of shampoo reflected his kinship with nature. When Elijah opened the bottle's pop top, a strong herbal scent filled his nostrils. He squeezed a good amount into his hand, replaced the bottle in the basket and began to wash his hair. After rinsing out the shampoo, he lathered and washed it a second time until all the sweat and grime was gone and his hair felt soft to the touch again.

The small piece of soap produced a surprisingly good lather, and Elijah rubbed it over his chest, under his arms and between his legs. He closed his eyes again, reveling in the feel of his soapy hands gliding over his skin, his body finally beginning to unwind, but suddenly the hands moving over his body weren't his, but Pedar's. Elijah could feel them soaping his balls, putting just enough pressure on the sac to make him groan, then moving up to stroke his cock to erection. He felt himself being pressed against the wall of the shower as Pedar explored between his ass cheeks, finding his opening and pushing first one, then two long, strong fingers inside him. Pedar's free hand held the back of his head, pushing his face against the wall until the rough mosaic tiles scratched his cheek. He could feel Pedar's hot breath on his neck, hear the danger in Pedar's voice as he brought his mouth close to Elijah's ear and murmured, "You can't get enough of this, can you, you little whore." Then Pedar's long, thick cock was inside him, thrusting savagely while the fingers that had been inside him slipped between the wall and his crotch to pull viciously at Elijah's cock.

Elijah started, as if waking from a dream, and found he was shaking. His legs didn't seem to be able to hold him up and he sank down onto the floor of the stall, clutching his knees to his chest and hugging himself as the water continued to rain down on him. He sat that way for a long time, how long he didn't know, but when the water began to grow cold, he forced himself to move. Standing up unsteadily, he shut off the water then stepped out of the stall and sat down on the toilet seat, wrapping himself in one of the large, fluffy towels Sean had provided and putting his head in his hands.

What was he doing? Did he really think he could ever get away from Pedar? He hadn't thought things out, just taken off. He'd taken enough money to last him for a while, or at least he'd thought so, but the car repairs were bound to take a big chunk out of that. Maybe he could get a job, if some restaurant would take a chance on him, and if they wouldn't, what would happen to him then? Would he end up on the street? Pedar had called him a whore. Was that how he was going to end up, letting guys fuck him for money just so he could eat? Elijah shuddered at the thought. Maybe it had been a mistake to leave. Maybe he could go back. Pedar would be angry, of course, but Pedar loved him, so Elijah knew he'd eventually be forgiven.

Elijah began to feel the heat again. It was overpowering in the small bathroom with the door closed. Between the humidity and his shower, the full-length mirror behind the door was totally fogged up. He got up, took off his towel and used it to wipe the condensation from the mirror, and as the fog cleared, he saw his image reflected in the glass. Elijah had seen his face, of course, staring back at him from the car's rearview mirror, but this was the first time since the beating that he'd seen himself totally naked, and it was like he was looking at a stranger.

Even without his glasses he was close enough to see the figure clearly, and what he saw produced a tightness in his chest. The slight body was a mass of bruises, on its upper arms, all over its chest, on its hips and down its thighs. The figure turned slightly and he could see there was bruising on its buttocks, too. When the figure turned back to face him, Elijah saw tears in its eyes. _Pedar loves me._ The figure shook its head. _A man who loves you wouldn't hurt you like this._

Elijah turned from the mirror and wiped away his tears. It hadn't been a mistake to leave. He _had_ done the right thing. And he wouldn't end up on the street. He'd find a job. He was a good waiter, and there were restaurants all over the country. If no one would give him a chance as a waiter then he'd work as a busboy or wash dishes. And if no real restaurant would take him on then he'd flip burgers at Mickey D's, but he wouldn't go back. There _was_ no going back.

One step at a time, Elijah thought as he put on his glasses. He opened the square, wooden cabinet above the sink and found Sean's razor and a deodorant stick, a natural brand, with baking soda. Elijah didn't need the razor yet. Even at twenty-two, he still didn't need to shave every day, but in this heat he'd definitely need the deodorant. He gave each underarm a swipe and put it back. Being clean again made him feel better, until he looked at his discarded clothes lying in a heap on the bathroom floor. If he had to put them back on it would be like he'd never showered. His other clothes were in the car, and he thought about going out to get them, but he'd been changing every day while he was on the road, so none of them were clean. Still, they had to be in better shape than the ones he'd just taken off.

Elijah opened the bathroom door and took a tentative step outside, embarrassed by his nakedness until he remembered there was no one there to see him. He still didn't feel completely steady on his feet, but he was better, and the car wasn't that far away. The cabin was isolated enough that he could go outside just the way he was, grab his extra clothes and come back in without being seen, much as he hated the idea of putting them on once he had them. But what choice did he have? He had to wear something.

When he was halfway across the room, Elijah saw it, on the floor next to the little couch Sean had slept on last night, a laundry basket. He picked up the plaid shirt from on top of the pile and sniffed it. It smelled clean, like it had just been washed, and right under it was a pair of faded jeans. Maybe Sean wouldn't mind if he borrowed them. Elijah searched through the basket, looking for underwear, then thought better of it and settled for the shirt and jeans. They were both too big for him, especially the jeans, which were baggy in the crotch, but it was better than going naked. Being barefoot felt so good that he decided not to bother with shoes.

Elijah wondered when Sean would be back. He said he might be two hours, but Elijah didn't know how long he'd already been gone. Before he left Sean said he could eat something if he wanted, so Elijah went into the kitchen area to check out the refrigerator. The moment he opened it the queasiness in his stomach returned, so he just shut the door again. There were unwashed dishes from breakfast still in the sink, so he washed them and stacked them neatly on the drainboard, then decided to go back outside.

On his way to the door, Elijah stopped to look at the two tall bookcases flanking the sides of Sean's desk. Both were overflowing with hardcovers and paperbacks. Sean _had_ said he loved books. The desk itself was an old-fashioned rolltop. Elijah had seen them in movies and thought they were pretty cool. The cover was rolled up now, and there was a stack of handwritten pages on it and what Elijah thought was a fountain pen. He'd only seen those in movies, too. He imagined living out here alone, Sean must write a lot of letters to his family. He was tempted to read one, but fought the urge, and went out onto the porch.

His headache wasn't as bad now, a dull throbbing rather than the blinding pain it had been, but Elijah was missing his music, so he decided to listen to one of his CDs anyway. Flipping through his collection, he finally settled on The Killers, and popped the disc into his Walkman. Curling up in his chair again, he slipped on his headphones and tried to lose himself in the music, but each harsh backbeat brought Pedar's face to mind. Elijah closed his eyes, picturing Sean's face instead, just to get Pedar out of his head, and found comfort in the sympathetic green eyes and the warm smile. He wondered why he hadn't thought to picture Hannah's face, or maybe Dom's, but when he found himself checking the road, hoping to catch sight of the Jeep, Elijah realized it was because he was actually looking forward to seeing Sean again.


	6. Chapter 6

On the phone with the garage, Sean was under control and all business. He told them what he thought the problem was and they assured him they could handle it, though there might be a tidy wait for parts, as he'd expected. They said they'd send a tow truck out next day. Good enough. Jenkins heard every word, of course, and watched him as he made his way around to the freezer chest and opened it.

The ice cream selection was decent. Sean took out a pint each of French Vanilla and Fudge Brownie Swirl, and a bag of ice to keep it frozen, then went to the counter to deal with Jenkins, who didn't ask but clearly expected to be told. Rather than have the man suspicious and speculating, Sean just told him. "Your stranger found his way to my door yesterday. His car needs work, so he'll be staying at my place for a while."

Jenkins put the ice cream in a paper bag and took Sean's money, pretending he couldn't care less, but finally muttered, "It's peculiar, and that fella was an odd one, beat up and running out of here like his pants were afire."

Sean couldn't say it wasn't peculiar, but he wasn't about to fan the flames. "He was lost and sick. He's just a kid. I'll help him get his car fixed, then he'll be on his way." Jenkins grumbled, not disposed to think kindly. Sean picked up his ice and his bag and just left. No matter what he said, the rumors were going to make the rounds. After seeing he and Daniel together for ten years, folks thereabouts figured they knew all about him. Once it was talked around that he had a young man at the cabin with him, they wouldn't be able to resist.

Tossing the bag on the passenger seat and the ice over it, he buckled up and left all of that behind, slipping right back into the discreet panic he'd been in since talking to Elijah on the porch. The boy was gay? What were the chances? How did two gay men find each other like that in the middle of nowhere? It was like the plot of a trashy romance novel. Sean managed to laugh at himself. He might have made use of it, if it wasn't so contrived.

The amusement died a quick death. Why hadn't he just said it? _I'm gay, too._ He knew why. Because pretending was one thing, and knowing it might actually be possible was another thing entirely. He had his memories of Daniel, whom he'd loved with all his heart. He couldn't replace that with what was at best physical attraction, at worst, a mere twitch in the loins. He couldn't, and he wasn't going to think about it anymore. There was a world of difference between them anyway. It was better Elijah didn't even know. It would just be awkward and uncomfortable if he did.

Regretfully, that didn't mean the debate was over, and he knew it. Daniel's voice in his head gently nudged at him to keep an open mind. And his will betrayed him when he drove up to the cabin at last and Elijah was there, waving him a greeting from the porch. Sean smiled impulsively, and waved back. He parked the Jeep, well away from the car so they'd have plenty of room to maneuver when they came to pick it up.

Elijah took off his headphones as Sean came up the steps, and Sean saw that the boy was wearing a pair of _his_ jeans and one of his shirts with the sleeves rolled halfway up his slender biceps. His dark hair looked extra soft and wispy. Sean found himself wanting to touch it. Damn. "I see you found something to wear. I should have thought to bring up your stuff from the car."

The boy practically swam in Sean's clothes. He looked at Sean uncertainly. "I found these in a basket. I hoped you wouldn't mind. My clothes are all gross."

"I don't mind. We'll get your things laundered though so you'll have something that fits." Not that Elijah didn't look particularly appealing like that. Sean stomped out that thought before his mind could run with it. The boy didn't really look like he felt much better, was clearly still suffering with the heat. Sean dropped the bag of ice to the decking, and pulled the ice cream from the sack with a triumphant flourish. "Chocolate or vanilla?"

Elijah smiled, a glorious gap-toothed grin, and suddenly looked very young. "Chocolate, please… thanks."

Sean couldn't help smiling right back, but the boy's grin faded pretty quickly, to his regret. He handed over the chocolate to Elijah and went on inside. The dishes he'd left in the sink were washed and stacked. He grabbed two spoons, poured a big glass of cold water, and came back out to find the boy's bare feet propped on top of the bag of ice as he licked out the lid from his ice cream carton. Sean set down the water and gave him a spoon, and then settled into the other chair with his. "Thanks for washing the dishes. You didn't have to."

Elijah seemed embarrassed that Sean had noticed. "No problem. I don't mind doing stuff like that." He dug into his ice cream like he was feeling some appetite. Sean hoped it would go over better than the bacon and eggs had. He took a spoonful of his own ice cream, scooping up the soft, melty part around the edge of the carton. When he looked up again, Elijah was watching him. "You didn't really want the chocolate, did you?"

Sean chuckled. "No way, vanilla's my choice." The boy seemed relieved. Sean casually said, "They'll pick up the car tomorrow. I can put the deposit on my credit card, if you need help with it."

That wariness passed over the boy's face again. He slowly shook his head. "I've got money."

Sean said, "Okay," and let the subject drop. They ate their ice cream watching the squirrels chasing each other through the branches of an old oak, or Elijah did. Sean couldn't keep his eyes from the sight of the boy's bare toes playing with the ice cubes in the bag under his feet. He had to physically tear himself away at last, pushing himself to his feet and collecting the spoons and empty cartons to take inside. "You should drink that water, Elijah. You need to keep hydrated in this heat." Elijah just nodded, and took out a cigarette to light.

Sean tossed the paper cartons in the burnable trash and dropped the spoons in the sink, then went out to the boy's car. It was fully in the noonday sun and baking, but he'd left the windows open and the smoky smell was all but gone. In its place was a different, more subtle odor. Elijah's scent on the worn clothes scattered over the back seat. To Sean's distraction, he found the smell more beguiling than offensive. He gave himself a swift mental kick in the gonads, and quickly gathered the clothes into a bundle to take inside. There was a gray canvas shoulder bag tucked behind the passenger seat. Sean grabbed that as well, in case it contained things Elijah might want or need, then went back up to the porch.

Elijah moved to get up, no doubt meaning to help, but Sean waved him back and told him to sit and relax. "I brought this too," he said, holding up the heavy bag by it's wide strap. "I'll put it right here inside the door." The boy nodded and thanked him.

Sean went on, setting the bag down by the door on his way into the bathroom, where he opened the folding doors that hid the laundry and stuffed the clothes into the washer, along with the small pile the boy had left on the floor. After starting the washer, he changed into his old, favorite, broken in hiking boots before going back out. He said he needed to get some things done, and suggested to Elijah he should enjoy the scenery and take it easy, then took himself and his wayward thoughts elsewhere.

It wasn't a great garden. Sean had learned the know-how growing up a farm boy, but they didn't get enough hours of sunlight in a day and the ground was hard and rocky here, nothing like the rich, black soil in the Midwest. But it was his first serious effort and he was determined not to lose it to the drought, not all of it. The cabbages and broccoli were done for, and the Brussels sprouts he'd been looking forward to. Shading them from the direct sun hadn't saved them for long, and he'd finally stopped wasting water on them. The tomatoes and cucumbers, the potatoes, the squash, were still hanging on, and he particularly didn't want to lose the watermelons, just in case they amounted to something. The fact was, he could have gotten most of what he was growing at the nearest farmer's market, but it felt good doing it himself, and he'd needed to feel good about something.

The flowers here and there, he'd planted on weekend visits with Daniel over the years, things that could take care of themselves, daylilies around the root cellar and the woodshed, climbing honeysuckle under the bedroom window, ferns and periwinkle on the north side of the cabin, against the old, stone foundation wall where it was cooler and damper, along with whatever wildflowers he found in the woods that could be transplanted. The only flowers Sean planted every year were Daniel's hollyhocks, and not because Daniel had liked them particularly. Daniel had just always made him think of hollyhocks, soft and warm, and tall, boldly reaching for the sun but fragile in a good wind, needing constant support and nurturing. They grew around a pole in the middle of the vegetable garden, because that was where they grew best, and that was that.

Sean watered everything that had need of it, then took a good, long drink from the hose for himself, the water straight up from the deep well, nice and cold. The well had never gone dry in all the years the property had been in Daniel's family, so that was one thing he didn't have to worry about too much. He wiped his sweaty brow on his sleeve and searched the patch of bright blue sky above, but there wasn't as much as a wisp of cloud to see, only the sun beating down at about two o'clock.

Sean went around and stood below the porch. Elijah was tucked into his chair still, his headphones on and his eyes closed, resting. That was what he needed to do. Sean refrained from disturbing him, and went to find something to occupy his hands. Normally, he'd be writing that time of the day, or trying to. But he knew there wasn't any way he could, with seemingly more important things demanding his attention.

Not surprisingly, he ended up out at the lake, sitting on the dock, and spent the rest of the afternoon there, doing nothing. Thinking. Missing Daniel, painfully. Wondering off and on what Elijah thought of him and his strange ways.

****

It was as if someone had turned a gigantic spotlight on the porch. Sunlight flooded in, and with it, even more heat. Elijah had never minded the warm weather, but these last few days the heat had been overpowering. He took off his glasses and used the sleeve of Sean's plaid shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. The shirt was too big for him, even with the sleeves rolled up, and the jeans so baggy Elijah was afraid they'd fall down when he stood up. He still wasn't sure if Sean was really okay with his borrowing the clothes. He'd said it was fine, but the look on Sean's face when he walked up the steps and saw him sitting there had Elijah wondering, especially since Sean had disappeared right after they'd finished their ice cream with the excuse that he had things he needed to do. Elijah couldn't imagine anyone being able to work outside in this heat. He could barely stand it and he was just sitting on his ass doing nothing. It was probably cooler in the cabin, but Elijah couldn't rouse himself enough to get up and go inside. After so many hours on the road, it felt good just to sit in one place for a while and listen to his music. Then his CD player died in the middle of _The Stone Roses_.

Elijah had left the expensive MP3 player Pedar had given him behind, taking only his old Walkman with him when he left, and while it couldn't boast 45 hours of playback on a single charge, he usually got at least four hours out of it before he had to change the batteries. He'd barely begun listening to it when Sean had come back with the ice cream, but now....had that much time really passed since Sean had left him alone? He had been too involved in his music to take note of how long Sean had been gone, but now Elijah wondered where he was and what was keeping him away.

He immediately chided himself for his curiosity. It was none of his business where Sean was. He was a guest in Sean's home only because he was hurt and Sean had been kind enough to let him stay until he was well enough to travel, but it wasn't Sean's responsibility to entertain him. That was why Sean had gotten the CD player from the car for him, to give Elijah something to occupy him so Sean wouldn't have to spend time with him. Elijah couldn't blame him, and he didn't mind being alone. He had his music. Or he'd had it, until his batteries died. He sat, staring at the blank display on his player until he remembered he had a spare pack of batteries in the shoulder bag Sean had brought up from his car with his dirty clothes.

The gray bag was just inside the door where Sean said he'd put it, and Elijah dropped down onto the floor, sitting cross-legged as he looked through it. To his dismay, he found he'd already opened the package of batteries, and the two that were left would give him only another four hours of playback time. Elijah decided he wouldn't listen any more today, that he'd save the batteries for tomorrow, unless he could ask Sean to--- No, he'd already been enough trouble to Sean without asking him for any favors. It wasn't like Sean needed to go into town again. He'd told Elijah he'd just stocked up on supplies, plus he'd already made one extra trip into town to call the garage about Elijah's car, so Elijah couldn't ask him to make yet another, especially for something as trivial as batteries so he could listen to his Walkman. He'd just find something else to do.

After dumping the player, headphones and batteries back into his bag, Elijah took a small pouch out of one of its side pockets. Unzipping it, he took out his lens case, debating. Wearing his glasses in this heat really _was_ uncomfortable. He got up and went into the bathroom, surveying himself in the mirror over the sink. His eyes were still bruised, but the swelling was practically gone, or enough so he could try putting his contacts back in. He took them out of their case, rinsed them, and after laying his glasses on the sink, put in the lenses. There wasn't any pain, no discomfort at all. Elijah stared at himself in the mirror. Even though the contacts had been Pedar's idea, he had to admit he did look much better without his glasses. He wondered what Sean would think when he saw him.

Elijah thought he should try to make himself useful while he stayed at the cabin. After all Sean had done for him, it was only fair that he help out however he could. Sean had talked about laundering his clothes, but Elijah could do that for himself. He'd done plenty of laundry when he was still living at home, and even though Pedar had a housekeeper that took care of it, Elijah hadn't forgotten how to use a washing machine. The compact washer and dryer that had been hidden behind folding doors were now visible, but Sean had put the laundry into the machine himself and it was already done. Elijah emptied the washer and put everything into the dryer. Once it was humming, he went back into the kitchen area. The only thing in the sink was the two spoons they'd used to eat their ice cream, but Elijah washed them and put them in the drain board with the dishes he'd done earlier. He looked around for something else to do, dismayed that in the five minutes he'd been inside he had exhausted all his possibilities. Now what was he going to do with himself?

He walked every inch of the cabin, its emptiness making him feel a sudden loneliness as acute as physical pain. Elijah found himself wishing he could hear Hannah's voice, just for a minute. Maybe the next time Sean went into town he could call-- Shit! Sean wouldn't be going into town again. Why couldn't he remember that? What was wrong with him? Was that why his head still hurt so much? Had Pedar done some real damage this time? Elijah had an overwhelming urge to go find Sean, but he had no idea where to look. Sean was probably out in the woods, but if Elijah went looking for him there he'd surely get lost. Elijah forced himself to calm down. His worry about the delay in leaving was getting to him, that was all it was.

Eyeing his gray bag on the floor, Elijah's resolve to save his batteries until tomorrow disappeared. He reached into the bag and retrieved his Walkman, but as his fingers searched for the batteries, they brushed against something smooth and round. He lifted it out of the bag and held it in his hand. He hadn't been entirely truthful when he told Hannah he hadn't taken anything from Pedar with him, but until this moment, Elijah had forgotten he'd even put them into the bag.

> **"I can't believe you didn't like that bracelet," Pedar said, and Elijah could hear the disappointment in his voice.**
> 
> "I _did_ like it," Elijah told him. "I said so, didn't I?"
> 
> Pedar shook his head, a half-smile on his lips. "I don't think the sales clerk at Harry Winston was convinced. I'd venture to say today was the first time he'd ever heard anyone refer to a $3000 Italian gold bracelet as _nice_."
> 
> "It _was_ nice," Elijah said, taking Pedar's hand as they walked, "but it was too fancy for me. Besides, you don't have to keep buying me things, Pedar. I like being with you. You don't have to pay me for it."
> 
> Pedar's face clouded and Elijah knew he had hurt his feelings. He hadn't meant to, but sometimes he just didn't know how to act around Pedar. They had spent almost every day of the past three weeks together, and Elijah still found it hard to believe that this incredible man actually wanted to be with him. Pedar could have anyone he wanted, and yet he had chosen Elijah. It just didn't seem real. He waited for Pedar's reaction, sure he had offended him, but then the older man smiled again and said, "I like buying you things. You're beautiful, Elijah, and you should have beautiful things. Let me buy them for you."
> 
> Elijah breathed a sigh of relief and dragged Pedar toward a group of street vendors whose wares lay in boxes on the sidewalk. "Okay, buy me one of these," he said, squatting down and rummaging through the boxes of leather and beaded bracelets.
> 
> "No, Elijah," Pedar protested. "I'm sure there's nothing worthwhile here..."
> 
> Elijah looked up from the boxes and smiled, and when he saw the stern expression leave Pedar's face, Elijah knew Pedar was going to let him have his way.
> 
> "All right," Pedar gave in, "let me see if there's anything decent."
> 
> Elijah waited, filled with anticipation as Pedar leaned over to inspect the boxes. While he looked through them, Pedar murmured that it wasn't as bad as he'd expected, that some of the boxes held jewelry made from semi-precious stones. Elijah had his heart set on something made of leather, so he couldn't believe it when Pedar stood up, a beaded bracelet in his hand. "It's pink!" Elijah complained, horrified by Pedar's choice.
> 
> "It's rose quartz," Pedar corrected, stretching the elastic over Elijah's wrist.
> 
> "But it's pink!" Elijah said again, making Pedar laugh.
> 
> Pedar bent down again, looking through the contents of the boxes once more and choosing another bracelet. It was braided black leather, but soft and flexible, with silver clasps. He fastened it around Elijah's wrist next to the beaded bracelet and said, "There. That should make it manly enough for you."
> 
> Elijah giggled. As if anyone would ever use the word manly to describe him, especially when he was standing next to Pedar. He looked down at the bracelets on his wrist then up at Pedar. "Does it have to be pink?" he pleaded.
> 
> "Rose quartz," Pedar corrected again.
> 
> "Okay," Elijah said, "does it have to be rose quartz?"
> 
> "Yes," Pedar explained, taking hold of Elijah's wrist, his fingers caressing the beads on the bracelet. "Rose quartz signifies love."
> 
> Elijah stared at him. Pedar wanted to give him a bracelet that meant love, which meant that....Pedar loved him.
> 
> "You believe in love, don't you, Elijah?" Pedar asked, his eyes darkening.
> 
> Nodding dumbly, then finding his voice again, Elijah said softly, "Yes, I believe in love." It was only inside his head that he allowed the other words to form. _I love you, Pedar._

Elijah slipped the beaded bracelet over his right wrist, then dug into his bag again to find the braided black leather one and put that on, too. He didn't want to listen to his music anymore, and suddenly felt so tired it seemed to take all his strength just to walk to the little couch and tuck himself into one corner. Pulling his legs up tight against his chest, Elijah lifted his face to the ceiling to catch the breeze from the whirring fan above his head, and absently fingered the rose quartz beads on his bracelet.

****

By the time Sean realized it was getting late and returned to the cabin, the sun was hovering over the tops of the trees and bathing the porch in direct heat. Elijah had apparently gone inside. Sean climbed the steps and opened the door, and the boy was curled up in a corner of the couch. He looked up, seeming relieved. Sean said he was sorry. "Didn't mean to go off and leave you on your own like that."

Elijah half shook his head. "I just wondered where you were, but you don't have to babysit me. It's enough you're letting me stay here."

Sean sat down to take off his boots. "I could use the company myself actually." He smiled a little to himself. "Just need to slip into it easy, I guess." He dropped his boots and socks next to the fireplace and chanced a direct look at the boy. "Feeling better? The ice cream went down all right?"

Elijah nodded. "Yeah. Ice cream always goes down all right."

The early evening sunlight poured in and gave the boy's face a more healthy hue. It made the place feel like an oven too, even with the fan on. Sean got up and closed the curtains on the west windows, shutting out the worst of it. "It'll cool off when the sun drops behind the trees. I've got a pot of soup made. We can have it out on the porch."

Elijah said, "Sure." He had his glasses off and Sean asked if they were still bothering him. He said, "They were, but it's okay. Got my contacts in now. Thanks for bringing my bag up."

Sean said, "No problem." He had to tear his gaze from the boy. Without the glasses, those eyes were hard to resist. Sean wanted to stand there like a fool and just stare into them. He mumbled something inane and ducked into the bathroom to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer, but found Elijah had already done that. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerve and went back out. He realized only then that he'd left his desk open, testament to just how distracted he'd been, notes and pages of text left lying there. He rolled the top down to get it all out of sight.

"I took a look at your desk. I've only seen that kind in movies. But I didn't read any of your papers, honest."

Sean turned to the boy, and smiled. "It doesn't matter. I write. It's a hobby. Just don't usually leave things such a mess."

Elijah looked at him, hesitated, then asked, "Do you work? I mean, how do you make a living?" His eyes met Sean's with an earnest intensity. "Do you have a job?"

Sean felt a tweak of remorse, but had to laugh. "Not so you'd notice." There was no reason to be obtuse about it. "Right now, I'm living on the interest from an inheritance." A twinge made him stop, but Elijah sat there looking into his eyes and he had to finish. "Until I decide if I want to go back." It hadn't until that moment entered his thoughts that he ever could.

Elijah was definitely curious now. "So, you came out here to get away from…something?"

Sean really didn't want to go into that. "I just needed to leave the city for awhile." Elijah only nodded, like maybe he could understand that. He didn't pursue it, at any rate, and Sean was glad. He went to the kitchen and took the soup from the refrigerator to start it heating. By the time it was ladled up, the sun had dropped below the tree line and the porch was in the shade again. It already felt ten degrees cooler to Sean, and Elijah seemed to breathe easier.

They talked as they ate. Elijah asked if he had a TV, and Sean shook his head, told him reception was nonexistent. "I've got a computer stashed away, and some old DVDs. You can take a look at it if you want to. I used to write on it, before." Before he'd stopped writing altogether, when Daniel got sick. "But there's no rush out here, and I like writing in longhand, the feel of the paper, the stroke of the pen." The boy gave him a sidelong glance, with raised brows, no doubt thinking him very strange. Sean supposed that was understandable. "What do you like to do for fun?"

Elijah thought about it. "I like movies a lot." His face became animated, excitement filling his voice. "I saw the latest Star Wars a week before I left. It was fucking awesome! Do you like Lucas?"

Sean shrugged, smiling a little. "I haven't seen the newer Star Wars movies. Haven't seen much of anything new. But I like films." He'd used to. "What else?"

Elijah said with enthusiasm, "I love music, can't live without my tunes. We used to go to dance clubs all the time until---" He stopped suddenly, as if he thought he'd gone too far, given too much away. He stuck his right thumb between his teeth and chewed on the nail.

Sean resisted the urge to ask Elijah who the _we_ was, asked instead if he'd like more soup.

Elijah said, "No, thanks," then added, almost as an afterthought, "It was real good though."

Sean smiled. "Thank you."

Elijah lit up what he said was his last cigarette, and they sat watching dusk gather, as the creatures of the night began their various serenades. Elijah asked, "What's that?"

Sean listened, to the peepers and the vibrating hum of the insect chorus, to an owl hooting, and a growling screech, fairly nearby.

"That!" Elijah said again. "Sounds like a dogfight."

"Just raccoons." They squabbled, sniffing around at the edge of the woods, then moved on, probably headed for the garden. In the fading twilight, Elijah took a hit from his cigarette and the end of it glowed cherry red for a moment. Sean picked one question, and asked it. "Did you grow up in the city?"

The boy was obviously reluctant to say, but seemed to finally decide it didn't matter. "Not really. I grew up in the Burbs. But that's pretty close to the city. It's different here."

"It's slow paced, peaceful. Hope you won't find it too dull." That came out of nowhere, like Sean was thinking the kid would be there long enough to get bored. He quickly added, "It's likely to be a couple of weeks, at least, getting the car fixed." Elijah nodded, sighing. He sucked one last hit from his butt, then put it out. Much as the temperature had dropped, it was still hot, but the boy tucked himself up into a ball and shivered. Sean thought hard about it and finally reached over to touch his forehead. His skin was slicked with fever sweat. "Hey. I think you should be in bed."

Elijah didn't protest when Sean took his arm to help him up, not until they got inside. "I don't want to take your bed. I can sleep on the little couch."

The little couch was not comfortable. And Sean figured Elijah needed comfort more than he did. "I'm fine on the couch, at least until you're feeling better." Sean sat him down on the edge of the bed. "You'll want to lose the clothes." They were sweaty, and he'd surely feel better without them.

Elijah looked up at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes. "You going to read me a bedtime story?" he asked with a giggle.

Sean felt that more acutely than seemed natural, but managed a smile. "You want a story?" The boy dropped his eyes and shook his head, hugging himself and looking more than a little bit out of it. Sean moved to help him unbutton his shirt and he flinched away. Sean forced himself to step back. "I'll go take a shower. You get out of your clothes and under the covers. All right?" Elijah nodded again, and Sean left him to it.

The shower didn't help matters. His body demanded, and he had to resist the urge. What he thought and didn't want to think were all thrown off kilter by this image of the boy asking him for a bedtime story, giggling. He forced himself to think about anything but Elijah, and got through his shower quickly. He'd gotten too little sleep the night before, but found himself wide awake regardless. It was early still for him. He was usually up until midnight, reading when he wasn't able to write. He stood looking into the mirror over the sink, thinking he was coping pretty well, all things considered. He shaved his face, since he'd started it, and brushed his teeth, then got a pair of old, comfy sweats from the closet and pulled them on.

It suddenly occurred to him that Elijah hadn't taken out his contact lenses, and he knew from Daniel's experience that probably wasn't a good thing. Elijah was tucked under the bedcovers when he went back out, already asleep. The jeans he'd been wearing were in a heap on the floor, but he'd kept the shirt on. Sean left the fan running and brought a cool, wet washcloth to lay across the boy's brow, but didn't try taking any of the covers he was clutching to him. Elijah didn't wake and Sean decided to let him sleep. He hadn't had the contacts in very long, so hopefully it would be all right.

Sean went at last and brought in the dinner dishes from the porch, and emptied the ashtray. It took all of ten minutes to wash the dishes and tidy up from dinner. He turned off the kitchen light at last and quietly opened his desk to turn on the light there instead. Writing, he couldn't do, not with so much else on his mind. But he shuffled his notes around and neatly stacked the pages he'd been working on.

Just sitting there at his desk had a way of calming his nerves. It was really more desk than anyone needed, but he loved it, because Daniel had loved so much finding it for him, and then surprising him with it. He sat with his chin in his hand and let those memories surface, his thirtieth birthday coming up and Daniel being extra tight-lipped and teasing. Daniel driving himself to get through with work on time, like it would be a tragedy if they weren't at the cabin for his birthday. Daniel dragging him inside by the hand when they arrived, to see it set up there all ready for him to fill with his things. Sean had finished his third book there, shortly before Daniel was diagnosed and began chemotherapy. He'd come to accept that he probably wouldn't ever finish another.

Elijah took his attention with a harsh, hitching breath. Sean got up and went over to the bed. He'd gotten himself twisted up in the covers and was trying to push them off now, sweating and shivering. Sean made himself a mental note to get a damned thermometer. For now though, his palm to the boy's forehead didn't register anything shocking, just enough fever to make him restless and uncomfortable. Sean carefully untangled the bedding until the boy was only covered by a sheet, tugged up so he could stick a foot out if he wanted to. He shifted and dragged his arms up over his face. There was a bracelet on his wrist, two of them together, one of braided leather, the other a string of pink beads. Sean couldn't help smiling to himself. It struck him as a mite gay, but it was very pretty against the boy's pale skin. Daniel had liked wearing pretty things, Sean thought with a pang.

Sean was also struck by how small Elijah's hands were. He could probably fit both of them in just one of his. It was a pity the shape they were in, with the nails so bitten down and ragged. Slowly, the boy settled and grew still again, and Sean tore himself away. He took Daniel's antique clock down from the fireplace mantel and wound it, thinking he must have forgotten to do it the night before. It rarely mattered to him what the time was, but he kept on winding it anyway. He closed his desk, very quietly, and turned off the light, then settled down on the couch. He expected to lie there awake, but the next thing he knew he was startling out of sleep, hearing a voice of distress in the dark.

Not Daniel's voice, not in his head. It was Elijah, having another nightmare. Sean lay very still and listened, for as long as he could stand to, debating with Daniel over it. _He needs a kind, gentle touch, Seanie._ Sean told himself there was nothing he could do. Daniel's voice whispered in his head. _You could talk to him, like you talked to me._ Sean retorted, _He's not dying_, and immediately regretted it. Elijah needed the kindness he was able to give. _He's hurt and sick, traumatized for all you know. How did he get those bruises? What happened to the boy?_

Sean pushed himself up from the couch and went over there. Elijah was mumbling in his sleep, breathing hard, defensively curled into a ball. Sean was hard pressed to understand what he was saying, but quietly sat down on the edge of the bed and tried. He heard the name Peter, he thought, repeated again and again, and No. "No, Peter, I don't want to," fearful, pleading. Sean laid a hand on the boy's back and rubbed a little, wanting to wake him from it, but at the same time not wanting to know. He'd thought it a possibility, since learning Elijah was gay, that the boy might be running from a partner who hurt him. That was how it sounded. He didn't want to know, he really didn't, but maybe Elijah needed to tell someone. Maybe Sean needed to stop thinking of what _he_ wanted and didn't want, and think about what was best for Elijah instead.

Elijah sighed and rolled to his back, easing out of the ball he'd been in. Sean's fingers unintentionally brushed across the boy's throat as he turned and Sean pulled his hand back. Elijah's breath caught and he tossed his head. The shirt, way too big on him, had slid off his right shoulder, and there low on his neck was a dark bruise. Sean reached out his hand and almost touched a finger to it, but stopped himself and lightly laid his palm to the pale, bare shoulder instead, and gently began kneading at the tension he found there. Elijah turned his face to the touch and sighed. Not allowing himself to overthink it, Sean carefully stretched out beside the boy, and left his hand where it was.


	7. Chapter 7

Elijah yawned. As he came more fully awake, he tried to stretch, and felt a weight on his chest that made it hard to move. His body tensed, his heart pounding. In one terrifying moment he was back in the brownstone, in Pedar's bed, with Pedar lying beside him, an arm draped possessively across his chest. Elijah's heart sank. Pedar had come back early and now his plan was ruined. He wouldn't be able to get away.

His mind struggled, logic fighting against fear until he was finally able to convince himself that he wasn't still at Pedar's. He had gotten away. He was safe. But once he remembered where he was, Elijah realized that it was Sean lying beside him, that it was Sean's arm across his chest. Rather than calming him, the knowledge made him feel uneasy. He had offered to sleep on the little couch, but Sean had insisted he take the bed until he was feeling better. Sean had said he was going to sleep on the couch again, so what was he doing on the bed? On the bed, Elijah saw, not in it. Elijah had woken up under the sheet while Sean lay on top of it, but still... One possibility darted through his mind, but Elijah's first instinct was to dismiss it as foolish -- no -- absurd. Sean was straight. He couldn't want –- he wouldn't try --

Elijah jerked involuntarily, causing Sean's arm to slide off his chest. Sean's groggy voice mumbled, "Huh?" and a moment later he was sitting up, staring at Elijah, the look on his face a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. He immediately pushed back, moving away from Elijah until he was sitting at the foot of the bed. "It's all right, Elijah," he said quickly. "Everything's all right."

"You-you said you were going to sleep on the couch." Elijah's voice cracked, like a pre-pubescent boy on his way to becoming a man. He felt the color rise in his cheeks.

"I was--I did," Sean began clumsily, "but then I heard you."

"You heard me?" Elijah asked, immediately fearful again.

Sean nodded. "You were having a nightmare and I came over to wake you. I rubbed your back, but you didn't wake up." He looked apologetic. "The rubbing seemed to calm you, so I kept doing it. I was only going to stay until you'd settled down, but I must have fallen asleep. I didn't mean any harm. I was only trying to help."

Elijah relaxed a little, raising himself up until his back was resting against the bed's brass headboard. He felt foolish, and ashamed of himself for being suspicious of a man who had been nothing but kind to him. "I'm sorry I acted like that," he said, unable to meet Sean's eyes, "but when I woke up, I didn't remember where I was."

"No, Elijah, I'm the one who should apologize. It's only natural you'd be scared, waking up and finding me on the bed with you."

"I wasn't scared," Elijah told him with a purpose that fooled no one. "I just thought...." He couldn't tell Sean what he'd thought, so he didn't finish trying to explain. Instead he ran his hands through his hair and blinked. His eyes felt unusually dry and irritated. Just opening them had been almost painful. Elijah raised his fingers to his eyes, ready to rub the lids when he remembered. "Fuck," he swore. "I went to bed wearing my contacts."

"I know," Sean nodded. "You were already asleep when I came out of the bathroom and I didn't want to wake you. Where are your drops?"

Elijah wondered how Sean knew he had drops, much less that he needed them, but he didn't ask. "They're in my gray bag," he answered. "Could you--?" But Sean was already off the bed and on his way to get it before Elijah had even finished the question. He returned carrying the bag and placed it beside Elijah, then moved back to his place at the foot of the bed. Elijah took out the zippered pouch and removed his lens case, filling it with cleaning solution. Then he took out his lenses and placed them in the case. Having Sean sitting there watching him made Elijah feel self-conscious, so he said, "I'll have to wear my glasses for a few hours until I can put these back in. Not sure where I left them."

"They're on the bathroom sink," Sean told him. "I noticed them last night when I took my shower." Before Elijah could ask, he was up off the bed again and heading toward the bathroom to get them. While he was gone, Elijah took out his bottle of eyedrops, and tilting his head back, put one drop into each of his eyes, then closed them and kept them closed as the liquid began to soothe the irritation. He felt the mattress move as Sean came back and sat down again. "Elijah?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's Peter?"

Elijah's head snapped up, his eyes open wide. "W-w-what?" he stammered. "How do you know about--?"

"You were talking in your sleep," Sean explained, "and when you said his name you sounded...afraid." When Elijah only stared at him, Sean shook his head. "Look, forget I asked. It's none of my business." He handed Elijah his glasses and got up. "I'm going to make breakfast," he said, then turned and began walking toward the kitchen.

Elijah hesitated, then to Sean's retreating back he said, "It's Pedar."

Sean stopped and turned back to face him. "What?"

"It's Pedar," Elijah said again. He bit his bottom lip. "_Pedar_, not Peter. It's Danish."

Sean didn't move any closer, but asked, "Who is he?"

"The man I was living with," Elijah answered. Then as if Sean wouldn't know what that meant, he added, "My lover."

Sean didn't react to the word. He said, "The man who gave you those bruises. The one you're running from."

Elijah nodded and turned his face away. His left hand went to the bracelet on his right and his fingers worried the rose quartz beads. "He wasn't always like that."

*****

_He wasn't always like that._ It was faintly whispered, with regret, with a sad sigh. Unable to stop himself, Sean stepped toward the bed again. Elijah tucked up his knees under the sheet and half buried his face. Sean waited, hoping he would go on and say more. He was thinking about it, Sean could tell, from the changing expressions playing across his shadowed face. But apparently that was all he would give away.

Sean was torn, between saying to the boy that he himself was gay and could understand, at least in part, and just not even going there. He wanted Elijah to trust him. He wanted that badly. But he was convinced that telling him would lead to more problems than it fixed. He stopped himself and stepped back again. "How are you feeling, Elijah? You had a fever last night."

The boy came back from wherever his mind was wandering, but a crease of a frown remained between his brows. It looked like his head was still hurting him, but he said he felt better. "I think the fever's gone." He huddled there anyway, looking bleary-eyed.

Sean wanted to feel his forehead and be sure, wanted to hug and hold him, just for comfort. But the touching had to stop, not only for Elijah's sake but for his own peace of mind. He wrapped his arms across his chest. "It's early. You can sleep some more if you need to." The boy just shook his head. Sean asked him if he was hungry. He shrugged slightly, and looked up enough to meet Sean's eyes for a moment.

"Yeah...I guess."

Sean gave him a nod and headed for the kitchen. "What would you like? What do you usually have for breakfast?"

Elijah made a face, like he was screwing himself up to say, and finally did. "I like Poptarts, but whatever you've got is fine."

"Poptarts." Sean smiled and turned away, to get his pad and pen from the counter and write that down. "Sorry, no Poptarts. How about pancakes? You like pancakes?"

"Sure."

It wasn't a rousing affirmative, but Sean hoped he'd be all right with it once they were served up with fresh butter and warmed maple syrup. "Do you want coffee, or would you like something else?"

"Coffee's okay."

Sean went about setting up the coffee maker. Elijah was quiet. Sean glanced over his shoulder and found the boy sitting at the edge of the bed with the sheet wadded in his lap and his toes scrunched in the rug under his bare feet, his dark hair standing on end. He looked small and vulnerable, and very young. Sean forcibly tore his eyes from the sight and started the coffee brewing, then took himself into the bathroom to get dressed.

*****

Once he knew Sean had closed the bathroom door, Elijah threw off the sheet he'd been using to cover himself and stood up. The first thing he needed to do was find some pants. The plaid shirt was long on him, reaching halfway to his knees so it covered the important parts, but if he turned fast or bent over he'd be putting on a show. That was what his mother had always called it when she saw one of her children getting dressed. Elijah was the worst offender, always late for school, usually still pulling up his boxers and jeans as he came into the kitchen for breakfast. If she happened to catch a glimpse of his bare teenage ass, Debbie would exclaim in a theatrical voice, "Elijah Jordan, you're putting on a show again!" Then she'd hide her eyes behind her hands and pretend shock at the sight, as if she hadn't cleaned and diapered that same ass hundreds of times when he was a baby. Elijah would play along, muttering "Oh Mom" in pretend exasperation while he covered himself.

A smile crossed Elijah's lips at the memory, but it disappeared quickly. He didn't think Sean would find catching him bare-assed very funny. It would probably freak him out. Why were straight men always afraid gay guys were going to hit on them? It was as if being gay meant you had no taste, that you'd jump anyone's bones, as long as they were male, but so far Sean hadn't acted like those guys.

Sean would be coming out of the bathroom soon, and even if he didn't seem to have a problem with gays, Elijah still wanted to be dressed by the time he did. All of his clothes were still in the dryer, so he'd have to put Sean's jeans back on. He had a vague recollection of getting into bed last night, of unbuttoning the too-big jeans and letting them fall, then just stepping out of them and crawling under the covers. Which meant they had to be around somewhere. Elijah put on his glasses and walked around to the other side of the bed. Yup, there they were on the floor, just where he'd left them. He slipped them on and zipped them up, letting the plaid shirttails cover the bagginess. The shirt itself felt damp against his skin. He'd probably been sweating all night from the fever. Elijah decided he should take another shower, just to make sure he didn't smell. Sean seemed to feel so bad about what he'd said yesterday, thinking he'd insulted Elijah, that Elijah figured even if he did stink, Sean probably wouldn't tell him so.

Elijah still found it was weird that Sean hadn't said anything about his being gay, hadn't asked him any questions, not yesterday or today. It was as if it didn't matter to him. All that seemed to matter to Sean was that Elijah was feeling okay. Even his wanting to know who Pedar was seemed to have been asked only out of concern, but then he'd backed off, told Elijah he didn't have to answer. But Elijah found he'd wanted to tell him, and not just because he felt he owed it to Sean. There was something about Sean that made Elijah feel he could tell him anything and Sean would understand and not judge him. It had been a long time since Elijah had felt that comfortable with anyone. No one but his Mom and Hannah ever had that kind of faith in him. No one else had loved him that unconditionally. Not even Pedar.

Pedar had to be back in the city by now. Elijah pictured him coming home to the empty brownstone, could hear Pedar calling out his name, then going into a rage when he discovered Elijah was gone. Elijah could remember Pedar's business trips during their first months together. In those days, Elijah couldn't wait for him to come home. The moment he saw the limo pull up he'd run to the front door and stand there, and before Pedar could get his key into the lock Elijah would pull the door open. Pedar barely had time to put his luggage down before Elijah jumped into his arms, kissing and touching him. He'd be lifted off his feet as Pedar carried him into the bedroom where they'd make love for hours, their hunger for each other so great it was as if they had been separated for months rather than just a few days. But after a few more months Pedar had changed. Elijah would still wait for him at the front door, but more with trepidation than anticipation. There was always the chance Pedar would be in a bad mood when he returned home, and even if he wasn't, something Elijah said or did might make him angry. That seemed to happen more often the longer they were together, even though Elijah didn't know what he was doing wrong. Even if Pedar was in a bad mood when he got back, he'd still want sex, but then their lovemaking would be more like punishment than pleasure for Elijah.

Even though he told himself that he shouldn't, Elijah sometimes found himself wondering if it hadn't been all his fault. He was just a dumb kid who hadn't gone any further than high school, while Pedar was an educated man, a man who knew so much about the world. He'd tried to teach those things to Elijah, his knowledge of history, of politics, of art and literature, of good food and fine wines. Maybe if Elijah had been a better student, Pedar wouldn't have gotten angry with him so often. Why hadn't he tried harder to learn? Things might have been different if he had. If he had tried harder to please Pedar, maybe Pedar wouldn't have lost his temper and hit him. Then maybe he wouldn't have stolen the money from Pedar's bank account and run away.

Taking the money still bothered Elijah. He'd left everything else of value Pedar had given him behind, but without the money he wouldn't have been able to get away. He wondered how long it would be before Pedar discovered the money was missing. It would probably take weeks, even months. A few hundred dollars meant nothing to a man as wealthy as Pedar. But when he did find out, it would be Elijah's theft rather than the loss of the money that would enrage him, and the knowledge that Elijah had used that money to leave him. Men like Pedar always did the leaving. Elijah was sure the young men Pedar had been involved with before him were dumped without a second thought once Pedar had grown tired of them, once they didn't satisfy him anymore. Elijah's choosing to leave before Pedar decided he was done with him wouldn't be forgiven, and if Pedar were to find him....

Elijah was so lost in thought that the sound of the bathroom door opening made him jump. Sean came back into the room, walking toward him, but when he saw the look on Elijah's face he stopped.

*****

Sean met the boy's eyes before they darted away, seeing the haunted look on his face and the tension in his posture. He was dressed in Sean's jeans again. How he was keeping them up was a mystery. He turned and picked up his bag and then moved for the bathroom without saying a word. Sean stepped aside. "If you need anything… "

Elijah said in a small voice that he didn't, and closed the door.

Sean breathed a sigh, running a hand through his freshly combed hair, and went on to the kitchen counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. It had been a mistake to ask. He'd known better. It had been a mistake lying down with the boy, who likely thought now that he was crazy into the bargain. He wished, sincerely, that the boy had never turned down his lane and stumbled onto his hideaway. He'd been doing all right on his own. He didn't need this upsetting of his routine, this tilting of his already precarious balance. He didn't want this responsibility.

_You thrive on responsibility, Seanie. You're just out of practice. He needs you._

Sean shook his head. Elijah needed a place to stay. And that was all the boy needed or wanted from him.

_You know that isn't true. He needs someone to tell his troubles to. He's just afraid._

Sean took a gulp of his coffee and scalded his tongue, damn. He stared out the kitchen window at the woods beyond the clearing, feeling the hot breeze from the fan on the back of his neck. The early morning light had a diffuse and hazy quality to it. He went and opened the door, stepping out onto the porch in his bare feet, coffee mug in hand. A thin cloud cover drifted across the sky above. Hope for rain? Maybe. The sight calmed his panic and quieted the doubt, for now. It was going to take time, that was all. He did want to help the boy, if he could. He'd been of no use to anyone for too long. He took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, then took himself back inside to make pancakes.

Elijah came out of the bathroom as he was pouring the first batch. The distress Sean had seen on his face earlier seemed to have passed. He only looked a little sad, a little lost. Gesturing behind him toward the bathroom, he said he'd left his bag under the sink, if it wouldn't be in the way there.

Sean said that was fine, but figured he ought to clear some room in the closet. He asked if Elijah had things in the car still that should be brought up before they towed it away.

A couple of boxes, the boy said with a dip of his blue eyes, not much else. Fine pain lines still creased his brow, but he was looking less dazed. That was a great relief to Sean. Elijah was in his own clothes again, the red sneakers and the faded jeans with the knees ripped out, with a worn t-shirt that boldly proclaimed **NOBODY KNOWS I'M GAY**.

Sean smiled at that and poured him a cup of coffee. "Cream and sugar? Well, I don't have cream, but there's fresh milk."

"Just sugar."

Sean took down the sugar canister and got out a spoon, then watched the boy, cringing a little but fascinated, as he scooped several heaping spoonfuls into the cup. He hardly needed the sugar high, as far as Sean could see. He seemed particularly fidgety that morning. Sean could guess, since he'd been through it with Daniel too many times to count, that the boy was missing his cigarettes. Elijah took his coffee and sat down at the table, but only stared at it.

Sean flipped the pancakes on the griddle, watching the boy as he worked, struggling with himself over whether he was in his right to pry even a little. Whether he should ask about this Pedar, and try to lure Elijah into talking about it. Or just take it slow and easy, as he'd been doing. Gain the boy's trust, if that was possible.

With the first stack of pancakes plated, he took the syrup bottle from the pan of water it was heating in, then gathered everything to take to the table, butter, napkins, forks and knives. Elijah leaned back in his chair with a look of trepidation as Sean set the plate in front of him. Sean wasn't sure what to make of that. "I use oatmeal and whole wheat. Good stick to your ribs stuff. But if you don't like them, you don't have to eat them."

Elijah sat up and gave him a flicker of a smile, for all the world like he was putting on a brave face. "They look great. Thanks."

Sean smiled a little and nodded, and went back to the stove to pour another batch on the griddle. He said he was making a shopping list and asked the boy what he liked to eat and drink. "I can get you whatever you want next time I'm in town."

Elijah darted him a woeful glance. "You don't have to. You've already gone to enough trouble for me."

"It's no trouble." Well, it was, in some ways. But Sean didn't really mind. "What do you like?" It took a good deal of coercing, but the boy told him at last about the pizza his Mom made with Swiss cheese and green olives, and from there they got to talking about food. Sean jotted down notes, standing at the counter eating his own pancakes while he cooked another batch, since Elijah had finally dug in and was looking like he meant to finish what he had.

"These are really good."

Sean said, "Thanks," beaming, and slid a couple more onto the boy's plate before sitting down to have the rest of his. Elijah took a drink of his coffee, made a face, and proceeded to put more sugar in it. Sean didn't comment on that, just smiled to himself. "It sounds like you miss your Mom's cooking." The boy looked at him, then looked down again, with an expression Sean couldn't read as anything but sorrow. Sean felt it painfully. "Elijah?"

The boy sat there staring at his plate, holding his breath it seemed like, getting himself under control. When he looked up, his eyes were glittering and only met Sean's for a moment before sliding away. "She died when I was fifteen."

Sean set his fork down on his plate with a sharp clink. "Elijah… I'm sorry." He sincerely was. But he knew how it sounded, like a thing people say and only mean on the surface. Sean could only imagine how hard it must have been for the boy to lose his mother at that age, to be left with no buffer between himself and an unaccepting father. Sean hadn't had so hard a time of it himself. Though he'd had a volatile relationship with his Mom, she'd been there for him when he needed her. And his Dad had been much more baffled than angry. From the tone of voice Elijah had fallen into while talking about his mother, it couldn't be doubted he'd had real affection for her, and Sean truly didn't know how it would feel to have that torn away. All the same, he knew what loss was. "That had to be hell."

Elijah shrugged it off, or tried to. "Yeah. It was hard. Hannah was only thirteen."

"And your brother?" Sean asked.

"He was 22."

From his own experience, Sean imagined the older brother taking care of his younger sibs, but that turned out not to be the case.

"Zach was already moved out and gone. It was just me and Hannah, and Dad. He just said it was God's Will and we had to accept it. Hannah said he was full of crap."

Sean all but held his breath. It seemed Elijah was in a mood to talk, and he wanted to encourage it without being pushy. "I bet you and your sister were close." He had that same wistful look he'd worn while talking about his mother. "She must have looked up to you, and leaned on you." Another weight on shoulders already overburdened.

Elijah sighed, holding his coffee mug in both hands and staring into it. "Not really. Hannah was like… amazing. She took over being Mom."

It was like a dam had broken. All Sean had to do was listen, with his heart open and bleeding.

"Hannah did the cooking and cleaning and making sure we both kept up with school. And she kept me out of trouble as long as she could, always fixing things when I did something dumb." His jaw clenched tight. "Then _he_ sent her away."

"Sent her away?" Sean quietly asked.

Elijah bit his bottom lip. "Well he didn't throw her out, but it was his fault she left." He stared even more deeply into his coffee. "Hannah's always wanted to be a dancer and she's really good. She's really smart, too. She got a chance for a scholarship to a school in New York with a great dance program, but things were pretty bad between Dad and me by then, so she said she was going to turn it down. Hannah said she'd rather go to a local college so she could live at home, but I knew she was only doing it for me. I almost let her, too, but then Dad told her he wouldn't be paying for her to go to school anywhere, and if she didn't take the scholarship she'd be shit out of luck. I know she would have stayed if I'd asked her to, but I couldn't let her give up her dream for me. I told her she couldn't let a chance like that go by, that I'd be working full-time soon and moving out, too, when I had enough money. That there'd be no reason for her to stay then. So she went." His hands tightened, white-knuckling the mug. "Then it was just him and me." Without warning, the floodgates closed and Elijah was silent again.

Sean wished he hadn't started it, and didn't. It was good to know. He could almost see himself in the girl's place, looking after a brother who was prone to making bad choices. "Your sister must be worried about you."

Elijah looked up, shaking his head. "I talked to her a couple of days ago." That somber melancholy came over him again. "But yeah, I know she is."

Sean suggested he could write her if he wanted to. He dropped his eyes and said he should, but didn't seem inclined to do so just then. He reached to his pocket, and stopped himself, frowning and bouncing his knee, almost jittering. Needing a cigarette for sure. Sean pushed back his chair and got up. A little distraction was called for, and he knew just the thing.

His laptop was stashed in the back of the closet off the bathroom. He had to rearrange things to get to it, had to nudge Daniel's canvases a little deeper into the recesses. But he managed to make some room as well for Elijah's stuff while he was at it. He took the computer to the low table in front of the couch and Elijah leaned forward on his elbows, interested. Sean opened the case and pulled it out. "Maybe you can get this thing running. All the cables and whatnot are in the pockets. And there's a printer if you want it."

Elijah came and sat on the couch. He apparently knew a thing or two about computers, took out the cables, the mouse and the headphones, and hooked it up without a problem.

Sean found him an outlet to plug into, and watched him boot it up. "I'm not sure you'll find much of interest. It has a few games that came pre-installed."

Elijah smiled, pretty much genuinely. "It's cool." He glanced up at Sean. "I guess you don't have internet, huh?"

Sean regretfully had to say he didn't, but the boy seemed grateful anyway. He checked the games first thing. Sean left him to it, went to clear the table and get the kitchen cleaned up, and got business out of the way. "I'll have to drive out and meet the tow truck. The woods are too close on the lane, so I'll have to work out a cross-country route to get them here. As dry as it's been, that shouldn't be too hard." He glanced around and found the boy looking at him. Sean said, "I'm thinking a hundred should cover the deposit." He would have been willing to front it himself, but Elijah had said he had money, and it might be a matter of pride to him. The boy got up from the couch and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. Sean busied himself running water to wash the dishes.

*****

Even though Sean was washing dishes and wasn't looking in his direction, Elijah kept his back to him as he opened his wallet. He hesitated, looking back over his shoulder, then took out five of the $20 bills from the ATM and stacked them on the table. $100. It was a quarter of the money he'd taken with him, and that was just the deposit. If the damage was as bad as Sean thought, it was going to take a lot to repair it, maybe all he had, and then what was he going to do? But he didn't have any choice. He couldn't go anywhere without Dom's car. Elijah put his wallet back into his back pocket and said, "Here's the hundred."

"Great," Sean said, and continued with the dishes.

Elijah went back to the couch and sat down, suddenly feeling very queasy again. In the last two days he'd had nothing to eat but a pint of ice cream and a bowl of soup, so Sean's stick to your ribs breakfast had been a little more than he could handle. He hadn't liked the taste of Sean's pancakes all that much, even after drowning them in butter and syrup, but Sean had seemed so pleased when he'd said he did that Elijah went on pretending, even eating a second helping, and now they were sitting like lead in his stomach.

He clicked on the Windows games folder, opened up Spider Solitaire, but couldn't keep his mind on the game, giving up after only five minutes and closing it again. He really needed a cigarette. Why hadn't he realized how few he had left? That store he'd stopped at to call Hannah must have had cigarettes. Why hadn't he bought a pack there?

Sean came over a few minutes later, drying his hands on a towel. One look at Elijah had him asking, "Are you feeling feverish again? You don't look so good."

As Sean moved closer to the couch, Elijah leaned forward slightly, sure Sean was going to feel his forehead. When Sean made no move to touch him, Elijah quickly sat back, trying to pretend he had just shifted his body in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. He felt embarrassed, and to his surprise, a little disappointed. Two days ago the idea of anyone putting their hands on him had made Elijah shudder, but for some reason, he felt safe in Sean's hands. Now Elijah wondered if he'd done something wrong, something that had made Sean not want to touch him again. "I don't think the fever's back," he told Sean. "My stomach just feels a little sick."

"My pancakes," Sean said with a frown. "You shouldn't have eaten them if you didn't like them."

"I did like them," Elijah lied as convincingly as he could. "I'm just not used to eating so much in the morning, that's all."

Sean nodded. "I should have realized they might be too heavy for you after what happened with the bacon and eggs. I'm sorry, Elijah."

"I'm fine," Elijah insisted. "You shouldn't be worrying about me."

Sean's reply was too low for Elijah to completely understand. He thought he heard something about it being nice to have someone to worry about again, but he couldn't be sure. When he asked him about it, Sean just waved it away and said he'd better get going or he'd miss the tow truck. He sat down on the couch to put on his boots and asked, "Are you up to helping me get your stuff out of the car? Otherwise I'll do it."

"No, I can help," Elijah said, getting up. "There isn't much."

They went out to the car together, and Elijah opened the trunk. There not being much to carry had been an understatement. Aside from the spare and the jack, the trunk held only two cardboard boxes. His whole life fit into two lousy cardboard boxes. How pathetic was that? Elijah glanced at Sean, embarrassed, but Sean's face stayed impassive as he reached into the trunk and lifted out the larger and heavier of the boxes. "Looks like one trip will do it," Sean said, heading for the steps. Elijah nodded and picked up the other box, then slammed the trunk shut and followed.

As he stepped inside, Elijah saw that Sean had placed his box on the kitchen table and was standing there looking down into it. It was the box Elijah had put his photographs in. There were a few framed photos he'd always kept on his bureau at home, then taken to Pedar's. Most of them were of his Mom and Hannah, some alone, some with Elijah, and one group portrait that included his parents and all three children. Underneath them was his Mom's scrapbook, its cover decorated with brightly-colored stars, and labeled in her precise hand, **Debbie's Family Album**. He'd taken it with him when he'd left Warren's house, not bothering to ask permission. It was doubtful his father would even notice it was gone, and mostly likely wouldn't care if he did. Elijah liked to look through it sometimes. It contained his whole life story in pictures, or at least his life story until the age of fifteen.

Sean looked up from the box when Elijah came in, and it was obvious from his expression that he'd been looking at the pictures, even though he did his best to pretend he hadn't been. It didn't matter to Elijah that Sean had seen them. There were no big secrets there. They were just photographs. He put his box on the table next to the other one and Sean said, "I've made some room in the closet for these, and there should be enough space to hang up your clothes if you want." Elijah thanked him, then said again how sorry he was to be putting him out. Sean told Elijah he was pleased to do it, then scooped up the bills from the table and shoved them into his pocket. "I'm not sure how long I'm going to be," he said as he made his way to the door. "You get some rest while I'm gone. If you get tired of the computer games, the DVDs are on the bookshelf. Nothing new, I'm afraid, but maybe there's something you haven't seen before."

When Sean was almost out the door, Elijah called out, "Sean?"

Sean stopped and turned around in the doorway to face him, his body framed in sunlight. "Yeah?"

There was so much Elijah wanted to say, about Sean's kindness, about his acceptance, but he didn't know where to begin, so he said only, "Thanks."

"No problem," Sean said with a smile. Then he was gone.

Elijah stood at the door and watched until Sean's jeep was out of sight, then went back to the table to take care of the boxes. He brought them one at a time to the closet, put them on the floor towards the back and left them there, not feeling up to unpacking anything. It looked like maybe Sean was using the closet as a storage space, too. There were boxes, and several tall objects covered with canvas. Elijah thought they might be paintings, but he didn't investigate. They were Sean's private things and it wouldn't be right for him to pry into them. He went back to the computer and opened the Games folder again.

 

*****

The clouds of early morning had long since dissipated and the sun beat down bright hot. It had been a faint promise, Sean knew. He parked the Jeep on the side of the gravel road at the head of his private lane, then got out and paced, expecting he was in for a wait. It was just as well though, because he needed a little time to himself. His head was full of Elijah, no surprise, but it was pity he was feeling now. He told himself so and meant it. The image of the boy from the photo he'd seen kept drifting before his mind's eye. He'd had that look even then, that wide-eyed, haunted look, when he couldn't have been more than fourteen. His father had towered over him in the picture, a hard and uncompromising man. It was a sorry thing to think he'd gotten away from an oppressive adolescence right into the clutches of Pedar, who _wasn't always like that_. Hell.

Sean paced as far as the old Sycamore tree, then flung himself around, his boots slinging the gravel underfoot. Though he'd led a fairly sheltered life when he was growing up, he'd seen plenty once he was in college and far from home. He'd spent a couple of wild and careless years, careless for him, learning the ropes the long way around. But that didn't give him the right to think he really understood what the boy had been through. And he needed to understand.

It probably wasn't more than an hour before the truck showed up, Hatcher's Body Shop on the door barely readable through a thick film of dust. A young man with greasy hair leaned out the window. "Mornin." One of Hatcher's boys, Mel it was, alone.

Sean gave him a genial "Good Morning." He almost asked the kid if he was sure he could handle the job, but he supposed they could manage it together. "You'll have to follow me in. The lane's kind of tight." Mel just nodded.

*****

Elijah couldn't remember the last time he'd played these simple computer games. Solitaire, Hearts and Minesweeper couldn't touch the games he and Hannah had played on the Play Station they'd gotten for Christmas one year when they were kids, and when Elijah compared it to the XBox Pedar had bought him -- fuck -- there _was_ no comparison. But it was a way to pass the time, so Elijah had spent about an hour playing before getting bored with them. Thinking about the Play Station made him think about Hannah. She was already worried about him, and she'd get even more worried if she didn't hear from him. Sean said there was a printer he could use. Maybe he'd take Sean's advice and write to Hannah, and the next time Sean went into town he could mail the letter for him. Elijah wouldn't put a return address on it, so there was no way Pedar could trace it. He'd just let Hannah know everything was ok and that he'd be in touch again later. He clicked on the Start button to bring up the program files. Sean had told him he'd used the laptop to write, so he had to have some kind of word-processing program on it. As he scanned for programs, Elijah got to wondering what else Sean might have on the machine. Sean had given him the use of the laptop, so it wouldn't really be snooping if he looked around. There could be video files, most likely porn, but Elijah had no interest in naked girls, so he decided to check for tunes instead. It would be interesting to see what kind of music Sean liked, if he liked music at all.

He did a search for every type of music file he could think of, .wav, .mp3, .asf, .wma, .avi, but the entire hard drive gave up only one, an mp3 called "Daniel," and it was in the Recycle Bin. Giving in to his curiosity, Elijah restored the file so he could listen to it, and the minute the song started playing he recognized it. It was an old Elton John song. Not exactly Elijah's style, but Zach had liked Elton, and Elijah could remember hearing it coming from Zach's room when Zach still lived at home. Elijah thought it was pretty weird having just the one music file, but to each his own. And Sean _had_ deleted it, so maybe he wasn't into music after all. Elijah sent it back to the Recycle Bin so Sean would never know he'd messed with it. No harm done, right? But the music search had whetted Elijah's appetite. The letter to Hannah momentarily forgotten, Elijah decided to see what else he could find out about Sean. Checking for documents produced better results. There were three large documents and at least fifty text files, but aside from one, all of them were named with only initials. The only one that had a recognizable name was "Moth." Sean seemed really into nature, so maybe he was writing a book about bugs. Elijah had less interest in bugs than he did in naked girls, so he didn't open it. He didn't open any of the other files either. Now that he'd found them, Elijah felt guilty for looking. Checking out Sean's private files would be no different than looking at the things in the closet, so he closed out of the search program and opened Word so he could start his letter.

*****

The first couple of miles were tricky but passable, the road even enough to tow the car back over, though the wood was close on either side. Sean watched in the rearview mirror as Mel thankfully maneuvered his truck through and didn't take out more than a few branches. When the road grew rutted and finally dipped into a gully, Sean left it for an alternate path, along the ridge and out across open meadow at last, to where they could cross the stream on a level. The ground was dry and hard, the stream not much more than a trickle. It should work.

*****

The letter writing wasn't going well. It had been at least half an hour, and Elijah still hadn't gotten any further than "Dear Hannah, I'm okay, how are you?" But when he thought about it, there wasn't much else to say, was there? Elijah was writing to let Hannah know everything was fine, so he couldn't very well tell her he'd had a car accident. And "By the way, Han, I passed out in some stranger's cabin and now I'm staying there because I'm dizzy and I've been throwing up" wasn't going to do much to ease her mind either. If he couldn't tell her something positive, what was the point of writing? Unless he could tell her he was safe and doing fine, then she'd be even more worried than she probably already was, and what good would that do either of them? Maybe it would be better if he held off writing until he really had some good news to tell her.

It seemed much hotter now than it had when he'd first gotten up. Elijah could feel the sweat pooling on the bridge of his nose and the back of his ears where the plastic frames rested. How had he dealt with wearing glasses his whole life when now he could barely stand to keep them on more than a few hours? He went into the bathroom, rinsed his contacts and put them in, noticing his hand shook a little as he did. What he wouldn't give for just one fucking cigarette right now. Looking for something to take his mind off of it, Elijah remembered the DVD's. Maybe Sean had better taste in movies than he did in music, and if he didn't, Elijah would just go back to the games.

When he went to the bookcase to check out the movie selection, Elijah found Sean hadn't been kidding when he said he didn't have any new movies. Elijah had been hoping for the original Star Wars trilogy, but unfortunately, Sean didn't have them. Some of the films were from the 70's and 80's, but most were even older, epics like **Lawrence of Arabia** and **Ben Hur** and westerns like **Red River** and **Shane**. _Guy Movies,_ Elijah thought. Then he saw an unexpected title, one he knew very well.

**An Affair To Remember**, a sappy love story with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, had been his Mom's all-time favorite movie. She knew every line by heart, but she still watched it every time it was on television. Knowing how much she loved it, Elijah had bought her a VHS copy as a Mother's Day present when he was fourteen. Once he'd come downstairs in the middle of the night for a drink of water to find her sitting in the living room alone, watching the tape. Elijah had stayed to watch it with her, then been mortified when he'd found himself crying at the tear-jerker ending. She had wiped away his tears and promised him it would be their little secret, a promise she had never broken.

 

*****

Sean returned to the lane for the last mile and they finally pulled into the yard without incident. He thought Elijah might come out, but there was no sign of him. He was probably still playing with the laptop. It very suddenly occurred to Sean that there were files on the computer it was best the boy didn't see, private correspondence, personal photos, not to mention all of his old working text files. Did he think Elijah would open things like that if he came across them? He honestly didn't know, and not knowing made him very uneasy.

Mel lowered the winch and took out his hooks and chains, and Sean helped with the job as much as he could. Together, they got the car hoisted onto its rear wheels, and Mel ran his dirty hands through his hair and said that would do it. Sean hoped so. He handed over Elijah's money and got a receipt for it, then had the kid go over the way out from there, to be sure, and finally asked if he'd like something to drink after working in the hot sun. Mel climbed into the truck and held up a can of soda from a cooler on the next seat. Sean stepped back as he started the engine and set out, and stood there watching until the truck rounded the first curve in the lane and was out of sight. Then he took a deep breath and headed up to the cabin.

 

*****

Elijah had been so caught up in that memory of his mother that he didn't even realize Sean was back until he heard the clanging of the chains as the repair guy hooked up Dom's car so he could tow it away. He continued to stare at the DVD case he still held in his hand, trying to figure out how such a romantic movie had found a home among all those westerns and adventure stories. Maybe it wasn't even Sean's. Maybe Sean had been married and the DVD belonged to his ex-wife, or to an ex-girlfriend. Or maybe Sean was a closet romantic. The idea tickled Elijah, and he decided to ask Sean about it when he came in. The tow truck was pulling away, so Sean should be coming through the door any minute. Elijah put the disk back into its place on the shelf, but as he was sliding it between the DVD on its left and the book on its right, the splash of purple on the book's spine caught his eye. Sure he'd seen the book before, Elijah took it off the shelf so he could take a closer look.

*****

The porch was shaded, but it was little relief from the heat, the air still and heavy. The light breeze from the fan wafted hot when Sean opened the door, but it was welcome all the same. He was smearing his sweaty face on his sleeve, about to comment on it when he saw Elijah standing beside his desk with an open book in his hands, a hardcover copy of _A Moth In Amber_, his first novel. Sean's heartbeat thumped. Damn, he hadn't even thought of that.

Elijah looked up, smiling, almost smirking. "Jeez, you like this guy's writing, too?" he asked. "Pedar raved so much about him, called him the next Edmund White--do you know who that is?" He shook his head, not waiting for an answer. "Pedar wanted me to read it, but I never did. No matter how many times I tried, I couldn't get past the first chapter." He laughed, not pleasantly. "Man, what a downer, really bummed me out, and so fucking _borrrrinnng._" Elijah stretched out the last word, just to make sure Sean got the point. "Anyone who has trouble sleeping should read this in bed. They'll be out in five minutes!"

Sean found his voice, though it sounded hoarse and weak to his ears. "The author meant well."

The boy looked at him, curious, no doubt wondering why the hell he had gay fiction on his bookshelves anyway. Then his expression changed, the mirth gone, replaced by a look of perplexity, as if he'd suddenly remembered something. Turning the book over, he stared intently at the author's picture on the dust jacket, then read the name aloud. "Sean Patrick Astin." Elijah looked up again with a flash of something in his eyes that looked like anger. He had to be feeling betrayed that Sean hadn't just told him from the start. How could he feel otherwise?

Sean opened his mouth to somehow try to explain, and realized he couldn't. The boy stepped toward him and he stepped back in abrupt and unreasoning panic, threw himself out the door and down the steps. He imagined Daniel laughing at him, but no, Daniel wouldn't laugh, not about something so serious.

_Talk to him, Seanie. He'll understand._

Understand? How could he, when Sean didn't understand it himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Elijah wasn't sure what had happened. One minute Sean was there, and the next minute he was gone. Elijah stepped outside, expecting to find him, but Sean wasn't on the porch, or even down by his jeep. He'd probably gone to wherever it was he disappeared to those other times. Elijah raised his eyes, scanning the area beyond the front yard, and caught a glimpse of Sean's back as he was making his way down a narrow path, thick with overhanging trees. He called out to him, but Sean didn't answer, didn't even turn around at the sound of his name. Feeling suddenly unsteady, Elijah sank down onto one of the chairs. It had to be his fault Sean had left, but what had he done wrong?

He'd been looking at that moth book when Sean came back. _The book._ Elijah realized he was still holding it. He turned it over to stare at the back of the dust jacket again, expecting to find it changed in some way, as if his eyes had been playing tricks on him and the man staring back at him from the black and white photograph wasn't who Elijah thought he was. But the picture hadn't changed, only its subject. The man in the tee-shirt who stared with such intensity at the photographer was younger, his face less careworn, his hair worn a bit longer, but there was no mistaking who he was.

Could it really be true? You didn't _have_ to be gay to write a book about gays, but when Pedar had tried to get Elijah to read the book, he'd told him the author was gay and out. What the fuck! If Sean was gay, why hadn't he said so? All the agonizing Elijah had done after he'd told Sean that _he_ was gay. Thinking what a great guy Sean was for accepting him and not making a fuss about it. Even apologizing for thinking the worst when he woke up and found Sean on the bed with him. Had Sean thought it was funny? Had he been laughing at Elijah the whole time?

He closed his eyes, his head starting to ache again as he tried to sort it out. Sean had taken Elijah into his home, had cared for him, had even given him his bed. Could someone who seemed so kind play such a cruel joke? Elijah didn't want to believe it of Sean, but what other answer was there? And why had he run off instead of staying to talk about it?

Elijah winced as he remembered the horrible things he'd said about Sean's book. He didn't think he'd ever forget how stricken Sean had looked as he'd talked about it, going on and on about how boring it was, how it could put anyone to sleep. Shit! Elijah hadn't meant to insult him, but how was he supposed to know Sean had written the stupid thing? _I write,_ Sean had said. _It's a hobby._ Why hadn't Sean told him he'd written a book? Elijah almost laughed. Should he be surprised Sean hadn't mentioned the book when he'd kept a much bigger secret about himself?

Fuck! Sean was gay. How huge was that? How fucking unbelievable! Here he was, running away from one gay man, only to wind up in the middle of nowhere with another. Elijah wished he'd known about it from the beginning. It would have made things so much easier, sure as hell would have made him feel a lot less uncomfortable about staying at the cabin, unless..... Was that why Sean had kept it secret? Had he thought that if Elijah knew he was gay, then he'd want something more from him than just food and a place to sleep? Just the idea of it had Elijah's head spinning. Couldn't Sean tell that after what he'd been through with Pedar, the last thing he wanted from anyone was sex?

How had something so simple gotten so fucked up? The more he thought about it, the less sense it made, and Elijah needed it to make sense. Getting up slowly, he laid Sean's book on the chair, then made his way down to the path Sean had taken. He had no idea where he was going, but if following the trail would lead him to Sean, he had no choice but to take it. Elijah took a deep breath and stepped onto the path.

*****

_Why are you running, Seanie?_

"I'm not running!" Sean said it aloud and startled a pair of doves out of the brush alongside the path. They flapped off into the upper tree branches with mournful complaint. He slowed his headlong march, as much as he could. He wasn't running. He just needed to think, and he couldn't seem to do that.

_You're taking this far too much to heart, love. You need to calm yourself._

"I need to do something!" Like drag down the canoe and go for a brisk paddle across the lake. There was nothing like that silent, rhythmic glide over a mesmerizing glitter of sun on water to stop time and clear the mind. He'd come back and deal with it then.

_You're only postponing the inevitable. The boy deserves an explanation._

Sean broke out into the clearing at the lake's edge and didn't stop until he was standing at the very end of the dock and couldn't go any further. The lake glimmered, calm and still, only a gentle wave lapping the pylons. "I wanted him to trust me and how can he now? I lied to him." A soft breeze off the water rustled the leaves. If he closed his eyes he could almost feel Daniel's caress on the back of his neck.

_My dear Seanie. You have to have some faith as well. Open your heart to him. You used to do that so easily. Trust him to understand._

Sean stared down into the water off the dock.

_Go ahead, love. You'll feel better._

Taking a slow, careful breath and then letting it out, and taking another, he stepped off. He hit the water with a splash and let the cool, deep, quiet close over him. His feet touched the rocky bottom and he dropped into a crouch and drifted for a moment, taking in the silence. Daniel had nothing to say. Daniel didn't do this with him. When he had to and no sooner, he kicked off, away from the shore toward open water, and surfaced a good meter farther out than his recent best. He tread water until he could get a good breath into his lungs again, then he turned from the dock and headed for the outer point.

It wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. He had too many clothes on, and his damned favorite old hiking boots, he could kiss them goodbye. He hadn't gone forty strokes before he knew he was being an idiot. But he went another ten before Daniel made him stop.

_Enough, Sean. Go back now._

There was no point in it anyway. He got his bearing and headed back toward the dock, feeling heavy and out of synch. He began to wonder if he might have gone too far. But Daniel wouldn't hear that.

_Don't think about it. Just do it._

There was no fighting that. Sean made it back but barely managed to haul himself up onto the dock, limp and gasping. He threw himself to his back in the blazing sun and flung his arms over his face. And Daniel came and lay down against his side.

_You won't ever do that again, Seanie._

Sean wasn't sure what he'd done, or why, but if it brought Daniel within reach of his arms, it was worth it. Except that he couldn't move, and it was just a dream, he knew.

_Only a dream, dear boy._

With a painful lump in his throat, Sean dropped his arms and sat up. He fumbled with his waterlogged bootlaces until he could pull off the boots and lean them upside down in the shade under the canoe. His clothes, his hair, were already drying in the sun and the breeze. He made no move to do what he knew he had to do. Instead, he pulled off his soppy socks and perched himself at the end of the dock, and tried to wish it all away for a few more minutes, to capture the dream again.

_You've been too long alone with your dreams, my love._

Sean's breath caught on a poorly stifled sob. "I miss you, Daniel."

Daniel's voice faded to a whisper. _Just be his friend._

*****

Elijah pushed a low-hanging tree branch out of his way, then swore when it slipped out of his hand, swung back and hit him in the face. He touched his cheek and his finger came away tinged with red. _Don't be such a baby, Elijah_ came his brother's voice inside his head. "Shut up, Zach," he muttered and went on.

The heat felt worse to him than all the previous days combined. He lifted up his tee-shirt and used the hem to wipe the sweat from his face. The sound of a sharp cry made him stop short, a bird of some kind. Too many things lived in the woods, things he had no interest in meeting up close and personal. And the noises. Between the chirping of the birds and the buzzing of the insects, Elijah felt like everything was closing in on him. The path seemed to grow more narrow with each step he took. He jumped, sure he felt something scurry past him, brushing against his legs as it ran. He quickened his pace, anxious to reach the end of the path, trying to stop reminding himself that he had no idea where he was going and would most likely get himself lost. His vivid imagination took over and he could see his body covered in leaves, then under snow, not being discovered until the winter thaw. Shit! What was he doing? There were enough real things out here to freak him out without his inventing more.

For at least the hundredth time that day, he found himself wishing for a cigarette. Even though he knew he was out, reflex made his hand slip into his pocket. He found only his lighter, but took it out and flipped it over in his palm a few times before putting it back. It wasn't like he would light up out here even if he had a cigarette, not after what Sean had said about the heat making everything so dry that one spark could send the whole place up in flames. Imagining the fiery scene was enough to make him want to turn around and go back to the cabin. Sean had to come back eventually, didn't he? But that could be hours, and Elijah wanted answers now.

Elijah hadn't always disliked the outdoors. When he was a kid, he'd loved playing outside. The year he'd turned four, his mother had taken him to the kiddie park every day. They'd walk there, Mom's one hand holding his tightly while she pushed Hannah in the stroller with the other. Once they got to the park she'd sit on a bench and watch him play, holding Hannah on her lap. The jungle gym had been his favorite. He'd spent so many hours hanging from its bars that she'd nicknamed him _Monkey_. Elijah could still remember when Hannah began to talk, how Mom would point to him and ask, "Who's that, Hannah?" Hannah would clap her tiny hands together and squeal "Munkee!" She still tormented him with the nickname now and then when she really wanted to piss him off.

Warren had been the one who'd ruined nature for him. _Get moving, Elijah. Why can't you keep up like your brother?_ Telling his father that Zach was older and taller and stronger had done nothing. _I don't know why I let your mother talk me into taking you camping with us._ Elijah had wanted to tell him he wished she hadn't, but he knew it would have earned him a slap in the face, so he said nothing, just trudged along behind, trying in vain to keep up with the long strides of his father and his brother on the path. Zach had said it was an accident, but Elijah knew he'd let the tree branch go on purpose, just so it would hit him. Warren had taken Zach's side, like always.

The two days in the woods had seemed like an eternity to Elijah. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do anything right, and his father and Zach had taken great pleasure in pointing out every mistake. Warren hadn't showed him how to put up the tent, just made him figure it out on his own, so he hadn't put the stakes deep enough in the ground and the tent had blown away. Then they'd made him go get the water, and he'd tripped halfway back and spilled it all so he had to go back and refill the buckets a second time. And Warren hadn't been satisfied just to put him down in front of Zach. No, he had to make sure everyone knew what a disappointment he was as a son. When they were standing in the driveway unpacking the car, with all their neighbors outside listening, Warren had shouted, "I'm never taking you with us again, Elijah. Camping's for men, not for little girls like you. Next time you can stay home and play dolls with your sister!"

Elijah had never felt so humiliated, and the memory of it made him feel the same way now. Had Sean enjoyed making a fool of him as much as Warren had? With each step he took, humiliation got cranked up a notch in Elijah's mind until it became anger. He wasn't ten years-old anymore. If someone made fun of him, he didn't have to just stand there and take it. When he found him, Sean was really going to get an earful. Determined now, Elijah walked on, not letting anything distract him.

He was so caught up in what he was going to say when he found Sean that he was taken by surprise when the woods abruptly opened to reveal a small clearing. There was a lake. He remembered now that Sean had mentioned it that first day they'd sat out on the porch together. It was beautiful, the water a crystal clear blue, with not even a ripple on the surface. There was a long, narrow dock leading from the shore out over the water. Elijah could see a canoe lying upside down over to one side, and sitting at the very end of the dock was Sean.

Elijah broke into a run, into the clearing and onto the dock, not stopping until he was near enough to Sean to reach out and touch him. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

Sean didn't answer, didn't even turn around. He stayed facing the lake, as if he wasn't even aware Elijah was there. Elijah was about to ask again, but then Sean spoke, his voice sounding tired and far away. "I thought it was for the best. I thought if you knew I was gay--"

Elijah almost interrupted. _What? You thought if I knew you were gay, I'd ask you to fuck me?_ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but before he could open his mouth, Sean went on.

"--you might worry I'd want something in return for helping you." He hesitated. "And I didn't want you to be afraid that something would be sex."

Elijah felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "You wanted me to feel safe with you," he said, almost to himself. The enormity of it was almost too great for him to comprehend. "You kept quiet about yourself because of me."

Sean continued staring at the lake, speaking low and carefully. "When you told me you were gay, I figured you'd been bashed. The bruises, the way you kept flinching from me, I knew you'd been hurt bad. Then you said his name, in your nightmare, and the way you said it made me think it was more likely you'd been involved with someone and he hurt you. Either way, you'd already been through plenty, and I thought believing I was straight would give you one less thing to deal with."

Elijah felt a lump in his throat. His anger was all but gone now, replaced by shame and regret. He sat down on the dock and reached out tentatively, allowing his fingertips to brush lightly against Sean's arm. "You were trying to protect me."

Sean turned at the touch. His face looked pained, his eyes red-rimmed, as if he'd been crying. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. I thought--" Did it really matter now what he'd thought? He'd been wrong about Sean, and now he knew the truth, or at least part of it, but he wanted to know more. Now that he knew Sean was gay, there were so many things Elijah was curious about, so many questions he wanted to ask, but when he opened his mouth, the first thing that came out was, "Do you have a lover?"

Sean looked at him in silence, his expression one Elijah found difficult to read. Finally he turned back to look out on the lake again. "I did, for ten years. His name was Daniel."

_Daniel._ The name of the Elton John song Elijah had found on the computer. The one Sean had deleted. "Was?" Elijah asked softly, then waited to hear the answer he was sure he already knew.

*****

Sean had to force himself to say it. "He died a year ago last month." He didn't want the boy to feel he had to offer sympathy, and quickly continued. "Cancer. He was forty-eight. He had everything to live for. But by the time we knew, it was too late." The tightness in his chest actually seemed to loosen and ease, and he was able to take a breath that didn't hurt. When he finally dared to glance at Elijah, the boy was looking at him, tears glittering in wide, blue eyes.

"My Mom had cancer."

Sean's mind abruptly flashed back over it, the endless hours spent sitting by Daniel's hospital bed, the heartbreaking helplessness. He very nearly reached for Elijah's hand to hold. "That's a hell we've both known then."

Elijah blinked and one tear slid from the corner of his eye. "She didn't know who I was at the end." It was said very quietly, with a hitch, and Sean's heart flinched.

"I guess it never goes away." He had feared that, when he wasn't clinging with all his might to every wretched memory he could hold.

Elijah looked at him, looked right into his soul with those haunted eyes, and said, "No, not really. But it gets easier."

Compared to where he'd been a year ago, it _was_ easier, most of the time. But it was good to hope time would eventually dull the pain further. Sean felt reassured, the last thing he'd expected. The boy dipped his head to wipe that tear on his shirtsleeve, and Sean leaned around to see the other side of his face better. "You're bleeding."

Elijah raised a hand to his cheek. "It's just a scratch. Isn't it?"

Sean took a good look at it and nodded reassuringly. "Doesn't look too bad." He met the boy's eyes, too close, and sat back again, running his sweating palm over his damp shirtfront. "I'm sorry I took off on you like that." He had to laugh at himself, though it was hardly funny. "The way you looked at me." Betrayed, not angry as he'd imagined. "I thought you must be hopping mad, and I tucked tail and ran." Freaking coward.

Elijah fixed him with an intent look. "I wasn't mad. I was confused, and hurt. I don't understand why you didn't say you were gay once you knew I was. I had no idea what you were thinking. You could have just told me."

It hit Sean again, that impulse to run. "I know, Elijah. I wish I had. But it wouldn't come out." He gripped the edge of the dock to steady his hands, and breathed a helpless sigh. "Since I've been living out here, I've sort of lost my knack for dealing rationally with stressful social situations." That's right, read the boy psychology text, hell. He clenched and unclenched his teeth, and said it as plainly as he could. "When Daniel died, I went a little crazy." It had taken all this time to get his balance back. And sometimes, like now, he still teetered.

Elijah stared down into the water looking sad and thoughtful. "Does it bother you to talk about him?"

To Sean's surprise, it didn't. "No. It's a relief, really." Imagine that. He listened, but Daniel's voice was silent. There was only the lake and the breeze and the wildlife, and Elijah breathing next to him. He felt a measure of that old affection for the place, the kind that used to strike him sometimes like he was seeing it all for the first time again. Without Daniel there beside him, he'd lost that.

Elijah raised his eyes from the water and turned a plaintive look on him. "So that's why you came out here."

Sean slowly nodded. "This was Daniel's place. We had an apartment in the city, but we came out here as often as we could. Daniel was in banking, old family business. He needed a refuge from that. And I needed the peace and quiet." He breathed it in. "I fell in love with the place the first time he brought me here."

Elijah smiled just a little, his blue eyes sparkling. "You were together for ten years? Wow. That's a long time. You must have been a kid."

Sean smiled. "Probably about the age you are now." Excellent time to come right out and ask. "How old _are_ you?"

"Twenty-two."

Even so, Elijah seemed like just a kid. Sean hadn't felt like one at that age. "I was just out of college, twenty-three, when I met Daniel."

Elijah handily figured it out. "Then you're thirty-four now."

Sean made a face. "Ancient."

Elijah's brow creased into a frown. "Pedar's close to fifty."

Sean didn't know what to say to that. The boy tucked up his knees and hugged them, sweat plastering his thin t-shirt to his back. Sean pushed himself around so he could reach up under the canoe and pull out the floppy brimmed hat he had stashed there, along with a bottle of water for emergencies. The water was hot, but it was better than nothing. He turned back to ask Elijah if he was thirsty, and found the boy staring into space, slowly turning the bracelets on his wrist. Sean uncapped the water and offered him the bottle. Talking was thirsty work. "Here, Elijah, have a drink."

Elijah seemed to hear him only reluctantly, but finally glanced around, and reached for the bottle.

Sean watched a trickle of sweat meander its way down the back of the boy's neck, watched him tip up the bottle and take a swallow. He tipped it down with a grimace and handed it back. Sean plopped the hat on his head. "It doesn't look like you're used to getting much sun."

Elijah didn't look thrilled about it but left the hat on. "The sun's bad for you, isn't it? Doesn't it give you skin cancer?"

"It can," Sean agreed. "It'll give you a nasty burn at the least." He took a long drink from the bottle, then capped it and set it between them. Elijah bounced his knee, looking dark and broody, needing his cigarettes most likely, thinking about Pedar, no doubt. It made Sean's jaw clench thinking about the man, but he gripped his nerve at last and asked. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Elijah looked down, teeth gnawing his bottom lip. He finally nodded, but didn't offer anything more.

Sean did his best to help it along. "This wasn't the first time he hurt you, was it?" Elijah visibly winced, and Sean could see the struggle it was for him. What he felt was there on his face to see, embarrassment, shame even, and fear. Fear of _him_? Sean fervently hoped not. The boy wouldn't meet his eyes, but worked himself up to it at last, leaned back and lifted the hem of his shirt, high enough for Sean to see the bruises. New bruises and older ones, some faint and sickly yellow green, others still livid. Sean's breath caught, his heart thumping.

Elijah looked at himself and quickly dropped the shirt, then wrapped his arms around his knees again and hugged them tight. "People aren't always who you think they are, you know?"

Sean couldn't summon a calm and reasonable answer to that. It was all he could do not to unleash a tirade of condemnation on this Pedar. The man needed to be held accountable. But he could see a venting of outrage sending the poor boy scuttling for cover, just when it felt like they were getting somewhere. So Sean held it in as best he could. He didn't know what the full story was. He needed to know. "Tell me about him, Elijah."

*****

_Tell me about him._

Simple enough, at least the asking. But the answering, not so simple. How could Elijah say _The first time I saw him my heart skipped a beat_ without sounding like some lovestruck pre-teen girl with her first crush? But that was exactly what had happened.

When Pedar and his party had sat down at a table in his section, Elijah had been so awestruck that he'd just stood there gawking until Dom had elbowed him in the ribs and said, "Lij, they won't get their dinner if you never take their orders." When he finally made his way to the table, he stumbled over the specials, sounding like an idiot, and then forgot to write down anyone's order because he couldn't tear his gaze away from Pedar's piercing, grey-green eyes. After pulling himself together enough to get their orders the second time, he managed to serve dinner with only one minor incident, dropping the bread basket. As he served dessert, getting the dishes mixed up so the men had to switch them around themselves, Elijah mourned his lost tip, but by the time he'd brought the check, he was more worried that his embarrassing performance might cost him his job.

"He came into the restaurant."

Sean leaned toward him a little, seeming genuinely interested. "The restaurant?" he asked.

"Yeah. I worked there as a waiter. I started out as a busboy, part-time, after school, then after I graduated, I started working there full-time. Busboys don't make much. The real money's in being a waiter because of the tips."

"So you worked your way up?"

"In a way. They're not very particular about the people who do the grunt work, but when it comes to dealing with the customers, that's a different story. My friend Dominic's a waiter there, too, that's where we met. He's older than me, but we hit it off right away and he showed me the ropes. I told him I'd like to be a waiter some day, so when he had time, he began teaching me all the things I'd have to learn. How to stand. The right way to speak to the customers. How to pronounce all those fancy dishes and wines. I'd been working there full-time for a little over a year when one night one of the waiters didn't show up. It was a slow night, so I asked if they'd give me a chance."

"Very enterprising of you," Sean said. "So all your studying with Dominic paid off."

"Yeah," Elijah said, and without thinking added, "and it didn't hurt that the manager was an old queen--" Too late, he realized the term might offend Sean, but Sean didn't look offended. "--I mean, he was gay, and I could tell from my first day there that he wanted to get into my pants."

Sean's eyebrows raised slightly. "And you let him?"

Elijah made a face. "No way! I wanted the job, but I sure as fuck wasn't going to have sex with him to get it."

"So he gave you the job and got nothing in return?"

Elijah bit his lip. "Not exactly. But he didn't get much."

Sean asked like he really didn't want to know. "Much?"

Elijah sighed. "All the waiters wore these black dress pants with matching vests, and white shirts with black bow ties. Every once in a while he'd decide my tie needed straightening, so he'd make me stand in front of a mirror, then get behind me so he could fix it, standing real close. Or he'd say I had a lot of lint on the front of my pants and spend a minute or two brushing it off with his hand." Sean was frowning now. "It didn't mean anything, Sean," Elijah said quickly. "He was harmless, just a lonely old man. I didn't like him doing it, but the other guys said it was no big deal and I shouldn't act like such a baby over a little touching. So I didn't make a fuss about it. And it was worth it. After I did okay that first night, he let me finish out the week, and eventually I got the waiter's job full-time."

There was an awkward silence. Elijah looked into Sean's eyes, afraid of what he might see there. Would Sean think he'd sold himself, that he was no better than a whore? But Sean said nothing about his manager's wandering hands, and asked only, "And you met Pedar there?"

Elijah nodded. "He came in one night with a group of men, some kind of business dinner, I think. I noticed him right away, couldn't take my eyes off him. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Not movie star handsome, but kind of rugged, like he should have been eating over a campfire instead of in a fancy restaurant. Straight blond hair, worn kind of long, and the most incredible eyes." Elijah stopped, embarrassed by how girly he'd sounded. "That's not the kind of stuff you wanted to know, is it?" he asked.

Sean sort of half-smiled and said, "Sure it is. Whatever you want to tell me, I want to hear."

Encouraged, Elijah went on, feeling a little more at ease about telling his story. "Well like I said, he came in with a group of other men. I couldn't believe it when the hostess sat them at one of my tables. I just stood there staring at them until Dom reminded me I was supposed to be working. A group that size, I figured I was in for a good tip, but I fucked everything up from the minute I got to the table. Tripped over my tongue while I was telling them about the specials, then after everyone had given me their orders, I realized I hadn't written any of them down because I couldn't take my eyes off.... Eventually I got it together, but not before looking like a total loser. When I brought the bill, he gave me his credit card, and when I looked at it, I remember thinking how even his name was sexy. _Pedar_." Elijah felt his cheeks flush. "I brought the bill back for him to sign, then went to take care of another customer. When they left the table, I went back to get it. I figured if I was lucky I might find a couple of dollars, but when I picked up the receipt there was a fifty dollar bill under it.

"After the way I'd screwed up, I knew it had to be a mistake, so I grabbed the money and caught up with him at the door. 'You forgot this, sir' I told him, holding the fifty out to him. He took it but said, 'I didn't forget it. That's for you, Elijah.' We wore little name tags, but I didn't think he'd bothered to look at mine, so I was surprised to hear him call me by name. He took a business card out of his wallet, wrapped the fifty around it and slid it into the pocket of my vest. 'I'm having a dinner party on Saturday night and I could use someone to serve. If you're interested, give me a call.' I know it was pretty stupid of me not to realize there might be more to it than just a job, but I never figured a man like Pedar could ever be interested in someone like me, you know? I guess I just couldn't see past the money."

"Or past Pedar?" Sean wondered.

"That, too," Elijah admitted. "I mean, it was mostly about the money, but working his party meant I'd get the chance to see him again." When he saw Sean purse his lips, Elijah rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. I was really dumb."

Sean said, "No, you were just very young."

"Nineteen," Elijah told him. "I wasn't a kid."

"Nineteen," Sean repeated. "And you're all of twenty-two now. I think you're being too hard on yourself, Elijah."

Elijah looked out at the water. "Considering how things turned out, maybe I'm not being hard enough."

Sean said nothing for long seconds, then said very quietly, "You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to."

Elijah turned back to look at him. "No, it's okay. After what you've done for me, you deserve to know what happened." Sean looked like he might disagree, but when he said nothing, Elijah began, "I switched shifts with one of the other guys so I could have Saturday night off, and called Pedar the next day. The number on the card was his office, and his secretary wouldn't put me through. I guess _Elijah from the restaurant_ sounded like a joke, but she took my number and said she'd tell Pedar I'd called. I figured she was just saying it to get rid of me, but she must have given Pedar the message because ten minutes later he called me back, apologizing for his secretary not letting me speak to him. He seemed pleased when I said I'd like to work the party, gave me the time and the address and said he'd see me then. It wasn't till after I'd hung up that I realized I hadn't even asked him how much the job paid. Like I said, really dumb."

"Not dumb," Sean told him. "It's not like you were used to being offered jobs from customers. And you did say it wasn't _all_ about the money. So what was his home like?"

"Awesome," Elijah replied. "You should have seen it. I thought the decorations at the restaurant were fancy, but Pedar's place was like a fucking museum. Paintings on the walls, and all these statues. The first half hour I was there I was afraid to move, afraid I was going to break one of them and have to pay for it. And the furniture. I don't think there was one piece that wasn't some kind of antique."

"And were there a lot of people there?"

"No, just two couples and Pedar. He could have been married for all I knew, but there was no woman there with him, not even a date, just him and the other couples. What really surprised me was that he already had people serving, so I don't know what he needed me for. I ended up just helping out where I could, mostly clearing the dishes. He said I should help myself to the food, that there was plenty, so I pretty much just stayed in the kitchen and ate. The food was great, even better than at the restaurant. Everyone left by eleven, and I started cleaning up. Pedar said I should just leave it, that his housekeeper would take care of it. It was pretty weird, almost like being a guest, but not really. And getting paid on top of it. I didn't know how to bring up the money, but once we were alone I said I needed to get going, and would he mind paying me so I wouldn't miss the last bus. He apologized for not getting to it sooner, and asked me to come upstairs to his office where he had his checkbook. He said he thought I might like a tour of the house, since I hadn't seen more than the kitchen and the dining room. So I went upstairs with him. It was huge. I couldn't believe someone would want to live alone in such a big place. His office was like a library, a bookshelf on every wall and every one of them filled with books, all with leather covers. Pedar loved books. I'll bet he'd have enjoyed talking about them with you, Sean. He tried with me, but a lot of the stuff he was interested in went right over my head." Realizing he'd wandered from the subject at hand, Elijah said, "Anyway, he took out his checkbook, then thought maybe I'd rather have cash instead because it would be easier. I said sure and he handed me three hundred dollar bills. I told him it was too much, that I hadn't done enough to earn even half that much, but he insisted I take it. For my trouble, he said. I felt funny about it, but I finally said okay and thanked him. Then he showed me around. The last stop was his bedroom."

Sean sat there with his back straight and his arms folded over his chest, an intent look on his face. Elijah ducked his head uneasily, but he'd gone too far to stop now. "I wasn't really sure if he wanted what I thought he did, not until he told me I was beautiful. And leaned down and kissed me." He'd never been kissed by another man before, but instead of pulling away, he'd kissed Pedar back.

Even after three years, that night was still so vivid in Elijah's memory that he found himself reliving it. Melting into the kiss while Pedar's strong hand held the back of his neck, the exotic taste of Pedar's tongue as he pushed it into Elijah' mouth. Cloves, he'd find out later when Pedar introduced him to the cigarettes. Pedar's fingers nimbly unbuttoning his vest and shirt and pushing them off his shoulders. Pedar breaking the kiss and leaning down to nuzzle Elijah's nipple with his lips. Elijah could almost feel Pedar's warm breath on his skin again, and he trembled, just as he'd done that night. Pedar continuing to undress him until he was totally naked, then lying him down on the huge bed. The satin sheets caressing his skin, a sensation like none he'd ever experienced before. Lying there naked, watching as Pedar took off his own clothes, his mouth going dry at the sight of the older man's lean and muscled body. Blushing as he told Pedar this would be his first time, and Pedar telling him not to worry, that he'd take it slow and not hurt him. Feeling embarrassed to ask about using protection, then relieved as Pedar produced condoms and lube. Pedar going slow, but there still being pain, and Elijah embracing it. Pedar holding him close after pulling out, and Elijah falling asleep in his arms.

"You slept with him."

At the sound of Sean's voice, the images dissolved before Elijah's eyes. He listened hard for the disapproval and the reprimand, but heard neither. _You slept with him_. It hadn't been a question, but merely a statement of what Sean took to be a fact. "Yes," Elijah answered. Then more softly, "It was my first time."

When Sean spoke this time, Elijah heard a trace of carefully-controlled anger. "He took advantage of you."

"He didn't force me."

"Not physically, but he pressured you just the same. He knew what he was doing."

"Even if he did, I still could have said no, but I didn't. I didn't want to. I know you think that makes me a slut--"

"Of course I don't think that, Elijah." Sean's fingers went to his eyes and he massaged them in silence, as if trying to collect his thoughts.

Elijah said, "I guess I wish my first time had been with someone I knew better, but at the time, I think I was just glad to get it over with."

Thinking about his night with Pedar made Elijah wonder how old Sean had been when he'd first had sex. He said he'd been with his lover from the age of twenty-three. Had Daniel been Sean's first? As much as he wanted to know, Elijah couldn't bring himself to ask something so personal, so he went on with his own story.

"I didn't expect I'd ever see Pedar again, unless he came into the restaurant, but two days later he called me. We saw each other every day for the next three weeks, with me usually spending the night at his house. Then he asked me to move in with him. I never expected it, and I know it was too soon, but I had to get away from my father. Hannah was gone by then and things were really bad at home. I was saving just about everything I earned, but I knew it would still be a while before I could afford a place of my own, so when Pedar asked me, I said yes. It was like a dream in the beginning, having someone of my own. Pedar was so good to me, buying me things, always wanting to make sure I was happy."

In a low, uneven voice, Sean said, "Then he changed."

Elijah frowned. "Not right away, but after a couple of weeks he'd lose his temper over the littlest thing. I tried my best to please him, but most of the time I could never figure out what it was that I did wrong. One night I said something he didn't like and he slapped me. I couldn't believe it. Pedar said he was sorry, that he hadn't meant to do it, and everything was okay again for a while."

"Until it happened again."

Elijah couldn't meet Sean's eyes. "About a month later he gave a big dinner party to introduce me to his friends. Jonathan, Pedar's oldest and closest friend, was sitting next to me at the table, and while we were having dinner, he put his hand under the table and squeezed my cock. When I told Pedar about it, he said I must have asked for it. I said I hadn't done anything wrong, and he backhanded me, saying he wouldn't be lied to. When I still wouldn't admit it was my fault, he hit me with his fists, over and over again. He was really sorry afterward, begged me to forgive him. I shouldn't have listened, but he cried, Sean. He told me how much he loved me, how much he needed me, that he didn't know what he'd do without me. He promised it would never happen again, and I believed him."

"Because you were in love."

"I thought I was, or maybe I just wanted to be, but how could I _not_ be in love with Pedar? He was everything I could have asked for in a man. Handsome. Smart. Rich." Elijah drew in a shaky breath. "He was older and knew so much more than I did, so if things didn't work out, it _had_ to be my fault, didn't it?" Elijah clenched his fists, slamming them down hard onto the dock in frustration, then bringing them back to hug his legs tighter against his chest. He let his head drop forward onto his knees. "I was so fucking stupid."

Elijah expected a verbal reply, but instead felt Sean's hand come down to rest lightly on his back. He tensed at the touch, but didn't pull away, and after a moment, Sean slid the hand up to his shoulder. Elijah lifted his head, and turning toward Sean, eased into the crook of his arm. Sean wrapped his other arm around Elijah and gathered him against his chest. Elijah burrowed in close, buried his face in Sean's neck, and let the man's strong, gentle arms envelop him.


	9. Chapter 9

It felt to Sean as if time stood still, with the sun beating down, and Elijah's soft breath on his neck.

The boy had gone from a bundle of nervous energy, telling his story, to suddenly drained and limp. Sean gladly let him lean and willingly held him, surprised and grateful. His own heart was beating double time on a rush of emotion, on just the feel of having someone in his arms. There was nothing sexual about it. What stirring his body felt, he resolutely put down, swearing to himself he'd never have another impure thought about the boy. Elijah needed a big brother, not another man looking at him like he was some trophy to be won.

The floppy hat, cocked precariously to one side, tumbled off onto the decking. Sean closed his eyes and turned his head just enough to brush his cheek in the boy's hair. It was unexpected, the opening up, much as he'd hoped for it. There was no doubt of it now. Sean should have just said he was gay from the start, if it made the boy comfortable enough to confide in him so frankly. There was a red haze over Pedar's name in his mind. He didn't like feeling that kind of intense anger. But getting it out had to be a good thing for Elijah.

A gust of hot breeze wafted and Sean opened his eyes. The lake rippled, blue and glittery. Their shadow stretched out over the water, the sun beginning to sink at their backs. A mosquito buzzed them, a fairly rare thing that season with the drought. Sean raised a hand to shoo it from Elijah's ear, and the boy lifted his head and leaned away. Sean reluctantly let his arm drop, the spell broken.

Elijah looked unsure, embarrassed even. He slid his hands to his lap and fiddled with his bracelets. Sean reassured the boy as he could, by not overreacting. It was understandable. He picked up the water bottle that was wedged between them, took off the cap and offered it. The boy glanced at it and made a face. "It's hot."

"But it's wet." Sean's mouth felt dry as dust, and he hadn't been doing all the talking. He took a drink himself and then offered it again. "Think of it as really weak tea." Elijah took the bottle and had a small swallow, and handed it back to him. Sean capped it and set it aside. "I hope you aren't still afraid of him finding you. I don't think he'll look here."

Elijah gave Sean a ghost of a smile and shook his head. "No."

"Where were you trying to get to, Elijah?"

Elijah shrugged. "Away. Dom loaned me his car and I just started driving."

Sean watched his fingers nervously flicking at the beaded bracelet, absently turning it on his wrist. "Pedar gave you that, didn't he?"

A bewildered expression passed over the boy's face. He stared at the bracelet, fingers stilled. "Yeah. I thought the pink was kind of _gay_, you know? But Pedar said that kind of stone, rose quartz, meant love. He could be so romantic sometimes." The boy blinked, and abruptly reached back to pull his wallet out of his jeans pocket. "I've got a picture..." He stopped himself, biting down on his bottom lip as he looked at Sean. "I guess you don't really want to see a picture of him."

Sean breathed a calming breath and said, "Sure I do." He figured he'd like to know it if he ever ran into the man.

Elijah took a photo from his wallet and looked at it, then held it out for Sean to see. "When I told Pedar I was interested in photography, he bought me a digital camera. This is one of the first pictures I ever took, so it's pretty lousy. I have better ones at home..." For a moment he seemed lost, as if he was only just realizing he didn't really have a home anymore, then he seemed to shake himself out of it, and looked at the picture again. "It isn't good enough. He's much more handsome in person."

The man in the photo was old enough to be the boy's father, and then some. But no, he didn't look like a monster. The worst kind of monsters never did. The man looked intelligent and thoughtful, and oozed some kind of mysterious charm. Sean spent a good deal of effort in not clenching his teeth, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything nice about the man. What he could do was compliment the photography. "That's a far cry from lousy. The composition is interesting and the colors are nice and muted. It's a good photo."

Elijah looked at it, smiling a little. "Thanks."

Sean smiled, couldn't help himself. "You'll have to get out your camera. There's a lot of beauty here to take pictures of."

The boy's smile faded. "I don't have it anymore. I left everything he gave me behind."

Except the bracelet, Sean sadly thought. Elijah hadn't completely severed his emotional ties to the man. Leaving behind valued material possessions, however, that showed integrity, something Sean could well appreciate. "I have a digital you can use, and there's editing software on the laptop." The boy's eyes lit up, as if they could get any bigger or brighter.

"That'd be great." He returned the photo to his wallet, and the wallet to his back pocket, then turned a different sort of look on Sean, curious. "Was your Daniel handsome?"

The question caught Sean off guard somehow. He had to swallow a dry lump that came up in his throat. "I thought so." Elijah waited, looking into his eyes, wanting to hear his story? Sean supposed it was only fair. "I met Daniel at a sort of meet and greet affair my publisher threw. He sought me out, said he'd read the book, flattered me mercilessly." Sean remembered it like it was yesterday. "He called me 'dear boy' with that accent and I pretty much loved him before we'd known each other an hour." It was easy going back, easier to talk about than he'd thought it could be.

"I was just out of college, looking at a great job offer on the West Coast. New York was crazy. I'd meant to go someplace else, anyplace else. Then Daniel came along and made it seem saner, less hard and brittle, and I ended up staying. Four months after we met, I moved in with him." Blissful times, for both of them. "I took an editing job and did freelance on the side, and worked on my second book. Daniel showed me the city's gentler side, and brought me out here. He was my muse and my cheerleader. He loved me." Sean's voice wobbled and he had to stop and take a breath before going on. "And I loved him, so much." Regret was inevitable, but they were good memories and it felt good to think of them.

Elijah was smiling, an open, honest, wistful smile. "Sounds like a fucking fairy tale."

Sean laughed out loud, and that also felt good. "That's what it was, a fucking fairy tale." And that was the best place to leave it. He picked up the hat and put it back on the boy's head.

Elijah tilted his head back to look out at the lake from under the brim, his face shadowed. "Is all this yours?"

Laying claim to such a wild place never felt quite right to Sean, but the deed was in his name. Daniel wouldn't have it any other way, and bugger the family if they didn't like it. Elijah gave him a questioning look. Sean shook his head. "No… well, as far as you can see from here, yes. But the other end of the lake and woods belong to Daniel's Aunt Tilda. She used to come out in the spring and fall, but she's getting on in years now." The last time Sean had a letter from Aunt Til, her words had been full of enthusiastic, chin-up encouragement, but he'd felt what she wasn't saying. Tough as nails she was, but she'd had a real soft spot for her favorite nephew, and losing Daniel had hit her hard. Sean had been too much in pain at the time to even answer that last letter, and she hadn't written again, leaving him his space.

"And your family, they're all the way in Iowa? Has it been a long time since you've seen them?"

There was a dry, scratchy ache in Sean's throat. He had a swallow of water from the bottle, and brought his thoughts back from wandering. "It's been over two years since I've seen Dad or Mack." There didn't seem to be any way to avoid it. "Mom came out when Daniel died, to help me deal with the apartment. But I haven't been home since before he got sick." The boy turned such a sorrowful look on him, Sean wished he hadn't said a word about it.

"I loved my Mom, but it's got to be even harder when it's someone you're in love with." It was said softly and hesitantly. "You must really miss him."

Sean had to look away from those sad, searching eyes. All he could say was, "Yeah," with his voice none too steady.

Elijah tucked himself up tight again. "But you're not sorry, right? I mean, even if you'd known how it was going to end, you'd still have done it?"

Sean raised his eyes and met the boy's, weighing all the pain against all the joy, though he already knew the answer. "Yes, Elijah, I'd still have done it. I wouldn't have missed loving Daniel." The boy rested his chin on his knees and gazed out at the lake, and they sat there quietly for a while. Sean felt more than a little wrung out, as he was sure Elijah must, but the sense of relief was profound and he hoped Elijah was feeling some of that as well.

"Sean…" The boy looked at him with a cautious, but determined expression. "I stole money from Pedar. I know it was wrong, but if I hadn't, I wouldn't have had enough to get away."

Sean supposed the boy thought he would disapprove. Under most any other circumstance, he surely would. He said, "You did what you had to do," and meant it.

Elijah nodded a little. "He probably won't even miss it, but I'm going to pay it back anyway. I don't think the money will matter to Pedar as much as my using it to leave him." His fingers absently stole to the beads on his wrist again.

Sean deliberately tried to steer his thoughts elsewhere. "Do you have a plan, Elijah? A big plan, I mean." The boy gave him a blank sort of look. Sean asked it from another angle. "What do you see yourself doing in ten years?"

"Oh, that kind of plan," Elijah replied. He looked away with a sigh. "No, I don't have one, never did, really, other than getting a job and moving out of my father's house. I guess I thought about having a real career, like being a photographer, but without college, I knew that was just a pipe dream. Working at the restaurant was okay. I made good tips, and good friends like Dom. After I met Pedar, I was so caught up in him that I couldn't look ahead ten days, much less ten years, but I think I always knew it wouldn't last. Even when it was good, I was always waiting for the day he'd wake up and wonder what the fuck he'd been thinking when he asked me to move in with him. But I left, so he never got the chance."

Sean would have said to the boy that it was never too late to go back to school, to aim higher, that he could do whatever he set his mind to, but Elijah clearly had Pedar on his mind. Sean let him get it out, saying nothing.

"Pedar had other young lovers before me. The night of the dinner party, the one where he hit me, I heard one of his friends say I wasn't even as beautiful as the last one."

A blush rose on his cheek, as it had when he'd spoken of Pedar calling him beautiful. He _was_ beautiful, Sean couldn't help thinking, though he apparently didn't believe it.

"I know I'm nothing special," Elijah went on, "but Pedar made me feel like I was, and I never wanted that feeling to end. That's why I tried so hard to please him, so he wouldn't get tired of me like he did the others. And why I stayed with him, even after he..." He swallowed hard. "I guess I just didn't try hard enough."

It galled Sean to hear him talk about Pedar like the man was worthy and he was nothing. Elijah thought himself a fool, but Pedar was the fool. He deserved to have lost the boy. He deserved far worse.

Elijah heaved a huge, shaky sigh, clutching his knees. "Shit. I want a cigarette really bad right now."

That, Sean understood. He'd been through it with Daniel more times than he wanted to remember. "Sorry."

Elijah darted a look his way. "It's not your fault."

"I know it isn't. I'm still sorry. I know it's hard."

The boy sighed again, more quietly, and just nodded.

It was getting late. They'd bypassed lunch and Sean's stomach was letting him know it. But he prolonged things anyway and tried a little distraction, asking Elijah if he liked to swim. The boy said he knew how, but that he'd never been swimming in anything but a pool. Sean remembered the mud bottom pond back home, teaching Mack to swim, like Dad had taught him. "I can't remember a time when I couldn't swim. I'm told my Dad called me tadpole when I was a tot." That made him smile. "But we didn't have anything like this. The lake's a dream. If you like the water, this is the place for it."

Elijah said, "I don't have a bathing suit."

Sean knew he shouldn't, but couldn't resist. "Well, naked's best, but you can always swim in your boxers." Thankfully, the boy smiled, taking that as it was intended.

"Maybe."

The sun slipped below the trees at their backs. Had they really been out there for hours? Elijah's arms were looking a shade too pink. Damned irresponsible of Sean. "We ought to get back." Elijah nodded. Sean dragged his still damp boots out from under the canoe and put them on sockless, just for the walk back, and got himself on his feet. He felt like he'd run an obstacle course, when all he'd done was sit on his butt all afternoon. He offered Elijah a hand up, and they headed for the path together. Sliding an arm across the boy's shoulders seemed the most natural thing in the world, and Elijah seemed not to mind. "You like spaghetti? I've got stuff to make a month's supply of sauce, and I need to do that."

"Spaghetti's okay."

The boy didn't sound altogether sure, and after what happened with the pancakes, Sean wasn't either. He'd been sick with fever just the night before, and maybe he'd pushed himself too hard today, what with the walking and talking, and all that emotional release. Sean asked him if he was feeling all right, and he said he was. The path narrowed. Sean dropped his arm and stepped ahead, and found the wherewithal to say what he'd been trying to off and on since they started talking. "I'm sorry about last night...this morning. About crawling into bed with you like I did. I really just wanted to help." He glanced back over his shoulder and the boy gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"I know."

Sean felt about a hundred times better than he had making the opposite trek. _Said the young man who finally listened to reason._ Daniel's voice rippled through his head, amused. For the moment, he was almost content, almost at peace.

*****

The path seemed different somehow during the walk back. The woods hadn't changed, but they seemed less strange, less intimidating. Elijah felt different, too. His anger was gone, but it was more than that. He felt better. Not physically, not really. He had a dull throbbing in his head, and his stomach still felt queasy, but Elijah was surprised to find that he felt less scared, less lost. Opening up to Sean had done that.

Elijah hadn't realized until he began telling Sean about Pedar how much he'd needed to talk about it. He hadn't been able to tell Hannah the whole story, but he'd been able to tell Sean. Was it because Sean was a stranger that it had been so much easier to open up to him? Or was it just the kind of man Sean was that had made him want to? Elijah had been a lot more honest than he'd intended. Blurting out that he'd stolen Pedar's money had been unexpected, but it was like once he got started, he couldn't stop. Sean had seemed understanding about the theft, non-judgmental. _You did what you had to do_, he'd said, but Elijah wondered if that was how Sean really felt, or if he was just saying it to make Elijah feel better about what he'd done.

The hug had been unexpected, too. Sean's hand on his shoulder, not pressuring, only offering. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Elijah to turn into him, and just as natural for Sean to bring his other arm up and hold him. Sean's neck had been warm and inviting as he buried his face there. Elijah found that Sean's smell was still in his nostrils, sweat, with a trace of Irish Spring. He found it oddly comforting.

It had been a long time since he'd felt safe in another man's arms, and to have Sean hold him, with tenderness, without expectation, had been a gift. He hadn't wanted to let go, but then Sean had raised his arm, his subtle way of telling Elijah he'd had enough, and Elijah had moved away from him.

The walk back through the woods came to an end sooner than Elijah would have liked. It had been a wonderful afternoon and he wasn't ready to see it end yet. He had felt a real connection with Sean as they sat by the lake, but would that connection fade once they were back at the cabin?

"Would you like to help me make dinner?" Sean asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"I don't know how to cook," Elijah told him.

Sean seemed undaunted. "Would you like to learn?"

Elijah nodded. "Sure. Hannah did all the cooking after Mom died, but after she went away to school, I ate like shit. Nothing but pizza, Chinese take-out and burgers, except for what I ate at the restaurant. Then when I moved in with Pedar, his cook did all the—" He stopped abruptly, feeling awkward and embarrassed again.

Sean made no comment at his mentioning Pedar again. "I'm no gourmet chef," he said, "but I can show you how to make good, healthy meals. Cooking's not difficult, Elijah, it's just following directions. If you can read, you can cook. So, you game?"

Elijah smiled. "Yeah."

Sean nodded his approval. "Good. I need to go pick up a few things, then we can get started."

At the words _go pick up a few things_, Elijah brightened. While he was at the store, Sean could buy him cigarettes. They'd have to be regular tobacco, but they'd be enough to take the edge off until he could get to a store where he could buy his cloves. "Great," he said. "Do you think you could…?" His words trailed off as he saw that while he was walking toward Sean's jeep, Sean was headed in the opposite direction.

Sean turned at the sound of his voice. "What are you doing over there?"

"You're going to the store, right?"

"No."

"But you said you were going to pick up a few things for dinner." Sean chuckled, but Elijah didn't get the joke. Kicking at the dirt in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance he asked, "What's so fucking funny?"

"Nothing," Sean replied. "When I said I was going to pick up things for dinner, I was planning on doing my shopping a little closer to home." He raised his arm in invitation. "Come have a look."

Elijah joined Sean and they walked together, but when they reached the far side of the cabin, Elijah stopped short, eyes wide. "I didn't see any of this when I first got here…or maybe I did. I don't remember much about that day."

"I'm not surprised," Sean said. "You were pretty much out of it. And since you've been awake, you haven't seen anything but the inside of the cabin and the porch, except for today's excursion down to the lake."

Elijah stared at the rows and rows of plants. "You _are_ a farmer like your Dad."

"Not really. When this was just our getaway place, all I planted was flowers, but after Daniel…after I started living here, I decided I wanted to plant a garden like we had when I grew up."

"So you grow all your food?" Elijah asked.

Sean shook his head. "I wish I could, but this isn't a good place for it. Poor soil. Not enough sun. I still have to buy a lot of things, but I like having fresh veggies when I want them."

"What kind?"

"Those cages over there have cucumbers and tomatoes. As a matter of fact, the tomatoes we're going to use to make the sauce came from those plants. Then there's potatoes, peppers, carrots, onions. And squash."

"Squash." Elijah made a face as if he'd just bitten into something with a bad taste.

"Have you ever tried it?" Sean asked, and when Elijah shook his head, he said, "You need to try it before you make up your mind. I would have had broccoli and cabbages, too, but with the drought, they didn't make it. Neither did the lettuce. But my watermelons are doing very nicely."

"Watermelon?" Elijah licked his lips at the thought. Sean parted the leaves to show him one, looking pleased with himself when Elijah exclaimed, "Awesome!" Elijah was surprised to see a stand of tall, pale yellow flowers blooming in the middle of the garden. There were other flowers too, here and there. He pointed to what looked like a blanket of green leaves climbing up the side of the cabin, all covered with dark, orangey red blooms, and asked, "What are those?"

"Trumpet vines," Sean explained. "Hummers love them. If you stand there long enough you're bound to see a few."

"Hummers? You mean hummingbirds? Cool."

Sean smiled. "Very cool."

Elijah smiled back at him, feeling embarrassed again. "Bet you think I'm a real geek getting excited over stuff like that."

"Of course not. Growing up in the rural Midwest, there was a time I took things like that for granted. But as soon as I left them behind, I missed them." Sean looked at him, smiling, wistful, then looked away again. "It's cool for me, seeing you discover them for the first time."

Elijah felt like he'd stepped into another world and was curious about everything he saw there. "What are those for?" he asked, pointing to two sheds just past the end of the cabin.

"The smaller one houses the generator."

"Generator?"

Sean nodded. "It's the only way to get electricity out here."

Elijah felt foolish that he hadn't realized that. "What about water?"

"I'm lucky there. We have a well." Sean pointed to a coiled hose hanging on a spicket. "Have you ever tasted well water?" Elijah shook his head. "Then come have a drink. After that hot water on the dock, I think we could both use one."

Sean turned on the tap and held out the hose so Elijah could drink directly from it. Despite the heat, the water was fresh and cold. Elijah took a deep swallow, then handed the hose back so Sean could drink. "That tastes great," he said. "Our water comes from the Hudson River." He wrinkled his nose as he remembered his last drink of tap water. "And it tastes like it." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What's in the other shed?"

"My tools," Sean explained.

"You mean power tools, like saws and stuff?"

Sean shook his head. "No power tools. I prefer using my muscles. I chop all the firewood myself, with an axe. As hot as it's been, I can't even imagine lighting a fire, but winter will come."

When he'd seen the fireplace, Elijah hadn't considered Sean might burn real wood in it. He figured Sean would burn those fake logs like Pedar did. "Wow. I didn't think anyone chopped wood anymore."

"I enjoy it. It's good to have simple, physical work to do, especially if you have things on your mind. And it's great for taking out your frustrations while still doing something constructive."

Elijah gulped. "I hope you never get mad at me when you've got that axe in your hand."

Sean grinned. "Don't worry, Elijah, unless you're a tree stump, you've got nothing to fear from me." He surveyed his garden, his obvious pride reflected on his face. "Well that sauce isn't going to make itself, so I think we should pick our salad fixings and get to it."

"Sure. What are we picking?"

"I think cucumbers, carrots and tomatoes will do. The lettuce in the fridge is a few days old, but garden veggies will freshen it up."

Since Elijah had no idea what was ripe enough, he let Sean do the picking. Soon he had an armful of vegetables and they were headed back toward the cabin. As he took the first porch step, Elijah's eyes went to the chair where he'd left Sean's book and he hesitated.

"Are you all right?" Sean asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Are you feeling dizzy again?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Well there's obviously something bothering you."

"It's just...." Elijah looked down and scuffed the step with the toe of one sneaker.

"What is it, Elijah? What's wrong?"

Elijah swallowed hard then looked up to face him. "Your book....I came down really hard on it."

"Is that all?" Sean seemed relieved. "Don't worry about it. A number of critics shared your opinion."

"But what I said wasn't fair. I never even finished reading it, and if I'd known you wrote it---"

"What?" Sean interrupted. "You would have said you liked it?"

Elijah didn't know what to say. He wished now that he hadn't brought it up. "I guess."

"And that would have been a lie. You can be honest with me, and you never have to say anything you don't mean. Always think for yourself, Elijah."

Elijah nodded. "Okay." He took another step, then stopped again. "Sean?"

"Yeah?"

"If you want me to be honest, then there's something I have to tell you."

Sean's brow furrowed. He looked as if he was expecting to hear some deep, dark secret. "I'm listening."

Elijah took a deep breath, then spoke in a very solemn voice. "Well...ah...the truth is, Sean, I think your oatmeal pancakes really suck."

There was a momentary silence, then Sean threw back his head and laughed.

Elijah laughed, too, freely and openly, something he hadn't done in longer than he could remember. Standing on the porch beside Sean, Elijah was surprised to find that for the first time since he'd left Pedar, he didn't feel afraid. Even more surprising was the sudden realization that he felt happy.

Sean reached out and ruffled Elijah's hair. "Come on, kiddo," he said, "time for your first cooking lesson."


	10. Chapter 10

It was almost as easy as breathing, Sean realized, falling back into the habit of not being alone. Having someone around to look after and give his attention to. Having someone nearby. He pushed the door open and held it for Elijah, toeing a fold in the rug smooth so the boy wouldn't trip over it. "You can drop that stuff on the counter by the sink." Elijah went on, while Sean stepped back out onto the porch to get his book and bring it in.

It was hot in the cabin, but not as hot as it could have been. The fan had been running all afternoon with no one there. Sean turned it up a notch, since they were going to have the stove on. He pulled off his damp boots. "Out of curiosity, Elijah… did you get as far as Jay's introduction?"

Elijah came back dusting his hands on his jeans, looking penitent. "I don't think so."

Sean slid the book back into its place on the shelf. "I sort of patterned him after my brother. Except that Mack's not gay. But you're a lot like Jay too, I think."

Elijah's dark brows lifted. "There's someone in your book who's like me?"

"In a lot of ways, yes." Sean nodded toward the shelves. "Help yourself to the books if you want to. There might be something here you'd enjoy."

Elijah smiled a little, running his hands through his sweaty hair. "Yeah. Maybe." He started to rub his cheek and Sean stopped him, almost reached out and caught his wrist.

"We'd better put something on that scratch." Sean headed in to the bathroom and Elijah followed him. "Wash first, with soap." Sean washed his own hands, and while the boy was bent over the sink splashing his face, he took out the antibiotic ointment from the cabinet, opened it, and squeezed some onto his finger. He hesitated then, thinking that might be taking liberties, but Elijah finished drying his face and presented his cheek. Sean smeared goop on the scratch. "There. Good as new, almost."

Elijah looked at his face in the mirror. "I moved it, but the fucking branch swung back and hit me."

Knowing the path well, Sean could guess which branch the boy had tangled with and made a mental note to do something about it. "I need to take the clippers out there. It's gone pretty wild in places."

Elijah stared into the mirror frowning, but not over the scratch, Sean didn't think. Sean was beginning to recognize that brooding expression quite well and could easily surmise he was lost in some unpleasant remembrance.

Sean asked him, "What is it, Elijah?"

The boy blinked and shook his head. "Nothing."

Nothing he wanted to talk about just then anyway. Sean didn't push it. He hung up the towel and flipped off the light. "You can put some music on if you want to."

Elijah seemed to like that idea. He went to the couch and plopped down to open his CD case. "What kind of music do you like?"

Oddly, that was a hard question for Sean to answer. "I'm not what you'd call a music buff. Daniel manned the stereo and he liked jazz and classical. It was always good, always just right, but it never had my full attention. It was just there in the background."

Elijah looked up at him with a knowing nod. "Like a soundtrack in a movie."

That was a good way to put it. "Except when we were here. He knew I liked the quiet here."

"So you don't really like music?"

As if that was incomprehensible. "It isn't that. I loved it when I was a teenager. I think I started tuning it out in college. It got to be too much like noise, and there was plenty of that already."

To his credit, Elijah tried to understand that. "The quiet's all right. Different. If that's what you grew up with I guess you'd be sorry to lose it. But man, you've missed some good tunes. It's not all noise."

Sean readily conceded that. "I know it isn't. I just haven't felt compelled to seek it out. Maybe you can bring me up to speed."

The boy smiled, with a warm and almost affectionate look directly into his eyes, and nearly took his breath away. "So, what did you like to listen to when you were a teenager?"

Sean collected himself, thinking back. "Let's see… Phil Collins, Rod Stewart, Huey Lewis." He chuckled. "I seem to remember dancing around my room pretending I was George Michael. And Madonna."

Elijah grinned at him. "You pretended you were Madonna?"

The smile Sean felt plastered all over his face welled up straight from the heart. "Maybe… once or twice." The boy clearly found that hilarious. It took Sean in a different direction. "I broke up with my first boyfriend parked at the quarry with Borderline blasting out of the tape deck." Why he'd had to say that out loud, Sean didn't know, but he wished he hadn't.

Elijah looked sincerely bummed. "That sucks."

Sean said, "No, not really. I mean, it did at the time. I holed up and played that song over and over until Mom threw a fit and confiscated it. We'd been best friends since sixth grade and it hurt to lose that, but it was for the best in the end. He's married now and doing fine, by all accounts. If things had been different, I might never have left Iowa."

The expression on the boy's face grew thoughtful. "So he wasn't gay, just curious. That must have made you feel weird. Did you love him?"

Sean found himself feeling a little wistful. "Sure I did. He was my best buddy. But people grow and change. He was gay and I'm sure he still is. Just not enough, I guess. He came from a big, happy family and he wanted that more."

"Are you still friends with him?"

Sean liked to think so. "We patched it up, yeah. I see him sometimes when I'm home. But we don't write or anything. Mom keeps me informed." Sean nodded toward the CD case, easing them off the subject. "What are we going to listen to?"

Elijah returned his attention to the CDs, and finally picked one and held it up. "Gogol Bordello?"

Sean shrugged. "Never heard of it, sorry."

Elijah returned that one to its slot and went on looking. "Probably too off the wall for you. How about Buffalo Daughter?"

"That's a band?"

The boy giggled. "Yeah, a good one, Japanese. Sneaker Pimps?"

Sean raised an eyebrow, but Elijah wasn't looking at him anyway. The boy finally picked a CD, looking amused, and turned to open the computer, hiding it from him.

Sean left him to it and headed for the kitchen. Sun streamed in and the heat with it, but it would be dropping below the trees before long and they needed the airflow. He cranked the window farther open, and stood for a moment looking out, suffering a pang of guilt. Guilt for feeling better than he'd felt in a very long time. An urge was in him to embrace it, to slide back into the shadows with his grief, where he belonged. It was insane. He didn't need Daniel to tell him so. With an effort he denied the guilt, and it slowly faded. The music came up to volume in full chorus and quickly banished those thoughts. California Girls? Elijah got up from the couch bopping his head and grinning. Sean was absurdly enchanted. "You've got Beach Boys?"

"Hannah got it for me. There was one tune I really liked and she found it on this collection. It's classic." He frowned a little. "Needs better speakers though."

Sean regretfully apologized. "Sorry, it's all there is." It was good enough, with the sound all the way up. It was hard to be morose listening to the Beach Boys. "It's good. You hungry?" He didn't wait for an answer, just set to making peanut butter sandwiches to tide them over.

Elijah came and leaned on the counter to watch him slice the bread. "Wow, that looks healthy. But, um, do you have any white bread?"

"Sorry, no." Sean paused to jot that down on his shopping list, then took out the butter and slathered the bread with it.

"That can't be good for you."

Sean smiled. "I'm not a fanatic. It has to taste good." He liberally spread peanut butter on the other halves. "Jam?" Elijah asked if he had grape jelly. "No grape. There's cherry and peach, and a little rhubarb."

"What's that?"

"Rhubarb? It sort of looks like fat, red celery. Sour as hell but if you cook it down with plenty of sugar, it turns into something else entirely."

Elijah made a face. "Sounds kind of weird."

"Be brave. Try it. It's in the fridge, in the door." Sean took down a couple of glasses. "You can get us something to drink. Help yourself to whatever's there. I'll have milk."

Elijah nodded. "Gotta have milk with peanut butter."

"Put a couple of ice cubes in mine, please. There's a tray in the freezer." The boy gave him a curious look, but took the glasses and went to the fridge. Sean got out plates for the sandwiches and a spoon for the jam. Elijah set the jar on the counter, the last from Mom's spring harvest. Sean divided it between the two sandwiches and carefully slapped them together.

Elijah came back with two glasses of iced milk. "Smart."

Not so much smart as necessary. "I can't run the fridge high enough to keep it as cold as I like it." He handed the jam spoon to the boy so he could taste it. He put it into his mouth and then slowly drew it out. Sean stood there just watching as the spoon re-emerged from between thoughtfully pursed lips, watching those lips softly smile.

"It's good."

Sean sucked a smear of the stuff off his thumb. "It's addictive." He slid Elijah's plate over to him and they had their snack standing at the counter, while Sean busied himself getting things together to start the spaghetti sauce. Little Deuce Coup had Elijah literally bouncing. Sean was feeling a little dancy himself. He smiled at the boy. "My mom has their stuff on vinyl. I can still picture the album covers."

"It's pretty ancient," Elijah said, then looked embarrassed. "I'm not saying I think your mom's ancient."

Sean just laughed. "Ancient is probably overstating it, but yeah." He finished his sandwich and washed it down, watching uneasily for signs Elijah was eating just to please him, but thankfully saw none. The boy set down his glass at last and absently reached for his cigarettes, then stopped himself and breathed a big sigh. Sean had watched Daniel do it countless times when he was in giving-it-up mode. The boy needed distracting. Sean got out a bowl and started him tearing lettuce for the salad. The chopping of the onions, he dealt with himself, and soon had them sizzling in the pot. The Beach Boys were crooning some song he didn't know.

Elijah paused to listen. "This is the one I really like."

Sean listened. It seemed they'd gotten past the cutesy surfer era. The instrumentals were more sophisticated, the lyrics more thoughtful and considered. It was a love song, soft and sweet, with a hint of breathless longing. Ah, love. Elijah looked almost embarrassed. Sean let him know with a gentle smile that he didn't need to be. "Silly love songs."

Elijah looked up with a grin. "Paul McCartney."

Sean grinned right back. He wouldn't have known that. The Beach Boys were sounding better. Sloop John B followed on the heels of Elijah's love song and made him think of the sea. "Have you been to the west coast, Elijah?"

"I haven't really been anywhere."

"But you've seen the Atlantic, surely."

A slight frown appeared for a moment between the boy's dark brows. "Sure. We used to go down the shore on vacation when I was a kid."

"You weren't impressed?"

Elijah shrugged. "It's huge. Biggest sky I ever saw. But itchy skin and sand in your shorts, not my idea of fun."

Sean could appreciate that but still he had a fondness for it. "Growing up surrounded by cornfields, it was an early goal of mine to see the ocean, any ocean. The first thing I did when I got to New York was head for the shore. I was impressed." Elijah seemed amused at the idea of him playing the naïve hick. Sean didn't mind. It was so great seeing the boy smile.

"I guess you have to be impressed by something that...."

"Powerful?" Sean offered. It was. "Most every time I've seen the Atlantic, it was gray and brooding. But beautiful, in a scary kind of way. The Pacific feels different, bluer, warmer. I drove up the California coast while I was out there looking for a job. It was awesome, in that word's purest sense."

Elijah's interest seemed genuine. "So you really like it out there."

Sean had thought the first time he got off a plane on the west coast that it was the place he was meant to be. "I almost moved out there. Took Mack along to visit a few campuses. He was just out of high school with no idea what to do next. Thought I should keep him close if I could, and see him through college. But he got it into his head he wanted to be an actor and stayed in LA when I came back." Sean helplessly shook his head. "He has the looks for it, but that's all. It lasted about six months before he got hungry enough to come home."

Elijah laughed, but was all seriousness when he looked into Sean's eyes. "Then you met Daniel."

To his surprise and relief, Sean felt only pleasure to think of that. "I did." A soft smile curled up the corners of Elijah's beautiful mouth, and it touched his heart. "I found out this is the place I was meant to be." He suddenly felt in danger of drowning in those sapphire eyes. Parts of him were touched that he'd been trying not to think of. He forced his gaze elsewhere, laughing it off, and got himself back to the cooking. When he dared to glance the boy's way again, he was intent on his task, looking bemused. Sean worried that the boy might have seen something on his face he hadn't meant to show. But thankfully, the smile returned, and the bounce. The upbeat music was hard to resist.

"There. How's that?"

Sean looked around from stirring crushed garlic into the pot. Elijah had torn the whole bunch, so they'd be having salad for the next few days. "Great." With careful instruction, he put the boy to work peeling and chopping the veggies. He took the bowl of lettuce to the fridge to keep it fresh in the heat and got out the rest of the things he'd need. The tomatoes were already sauced. The meats had been ground fresh under his watchful eye just… three days ago. Had Elijah really been there for three days? It seemed both longer and shorter somehow.

The onions were filling the place with their aroma. It was smelling nice. Elijah agreed, that was a good sign. Italian sausage browning in the pot added a hint of fennel. Sean poured in the tomatoes finally, the oregano and basil, thinking about something sweet for dessert. Elijah finished with the veggies and added them to the salad. Sean got out the squash he'd been saving up and started the boy grating it for zucchini bread, while he got out his mom's recipe and mixed up the batter. Elijah was none too sure about putting vegetables in the dessert, but Sean assured him it would be good.

By the time dusk was gathering outside the windows, they had the bread in the oven and the spaghetti cooking. Elijah was dancing around the table, singing along to Good Vibrations as he laid out the forks and knives. Sean was watching him, inevitably, when he fumbled a fork and bumped the table trying to catch it, knocking over a glass of water.

"Bollocks!"

Sean stood there with his mouth hanging open. "What did you say?"

Elijah didn't answer, was busily trying to stop the spilled water from flowing over the edge of the table, with his hands. Sean stifled amusement, grabbed a towel, and went to the boy's rescue. They got it under control and found themselves looking into each other's eyes from so close it was hard to focus. But it was impossible to miss the wide-eyed, anxious look on the boy's face. Sean stepped back, sobered, and tossed the soppy towel onto the counter by the stove. "It's all right. No big deal."

Elijah said nothing, just took the empty glass and went to the fridge to refill it.

Sean went back to watching the pasta. "You said bollocks."

Elijah still seemed preoccupied. "Huh?"

Sean smiled. "Bollocks. It was a favorite expression of Daniel's, in private, when something annoyed him sufficiently."

Elijah thoughtfully chewed his lip. "Ah...sorry. I guess I picked it up from Dom."

"No need to be sorry." It actually gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling to hear it again. "Dom's British?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, him and Billy both. Dom's from England and Billy's a Scot. So Daniel's British?" He abruptly checked himself. "Was," he corrected, looking pained.

Sean shook that off, more easily than was common for him. "Daniel was very British, even after living here in the states for twenty years. Do you know what part of the country Dom was from?"

Elijah came and leaned on the counter to watch him drain the pasta. "Manchester, I think. He was always talking about this soccer team, Manchester United." The boy still seemed vaguely troubled, and Sean was sorry to see the change in his mood. A wistfulness came over him. "I'd like to go to England some day. Have you ever been?"

Sean resisted falling into those memories and only said, "Once, for a few weeks. Daniel took me to meet the rest of the family."

Elijah looked thoughtful. "That must have been intense. Did it go okay?"

Meeting the family, not well. "I wasn't exactly welcomed. But we saw some beautiful country." And the time together had been precious.

The music had stopped. Outside, the tree frogs were serenading the coming night. Sean wouldn't have minded just listening to that, but Elijah dashed to the computer to change the CD. The boy put on something he didn't know. It wasn't screechy. He appreciated that.

"How's this?" Elijah asked, some of that earlier enthusiasm coming back into his voice. "It's Stone Roses."

Sean took it in for a little while, a sensible tune with a good beat, lyrics he could understand, for the most part. "I like it." Elijah seemed pleased. Sean dished up the sauced spaghetti and brought the plates to the table while he got the salad from the fridge, and they tucked in. If Elijah noticed the pasta was whole grain, he kept his opinion of it to himself. They talked about music in general. The boy knew a lot about it and had surprisingly far ranging tastes, from rock and jazz all the way back to big band, to whatever the extreme was these days.

Dinner seemed to go over well. Night settled in and the temperature dropped to bearable. The fan steadily wafted out the heat they'd made in the kitchen, and the smells of garlic and tomato were replaced with a sweet, fresh-baked aroma from the oven. The talk turned to movies and Elijah asked Sean what kind he liked. He shrugged. "Most of the DVDs on the shelves are Daniel's. Daniel liked all kinds of things." But the boy hadn't asked him what Daniel liked. "I don't know. I guess I'd say science fiction and fantasy, if it's done well."

The boy gave him a curious look across the table. "But you didn't like Star Wars?"

Had he said that? "I loved the first one. I mostly loved the first three. The little fuzzy guys were a mite too cutesy for me."

Elijah giggled. "Ewoks."

Sean smiled. "Yeah."

"I like sci-fi. What have you got?"

Sean got up from the table and went to have a look. "Road Warrior… The Abyss… Blade Runner, director's cut. Armageddon."

"I like Armageddon."

Sean pulled out the DVD and held it up. "Want to watch it?"

Elijah put on a big smile. "Sure."

The oven timer went off. Sean laid the DVD by the computer and went to take the bread out. It was smelling good. He thunked it out of the pan onto a rack to cool. Elijah brought the plates to the sink while he packaged the rest of the pasta sauce for the freezer, then they quickly cleaned up the mess. Sean didn't ask him to, but the boy picked up a towel and dried the dishes as he washed them.

It made him think of Daniel, who had stood right there like that countless times, chatting with him while they washed up after dinner. With Daniel though, it would have been calm and quiet. Elijah seemed to find it difficult to stand still. He fussed and fidgeted, bouncing on his toes to the music, seemingly recovered from whatever had brought him down earlier. There was really no comparing the two of them. Daniel wasn't the excitable sort. Daniel would never have giggled at his lame jokes. And Daniel wouldn't have made his stomach flip with one straight on, open hearted glance of those blue eyes. That startled Sean with a twinge of remorse, for the sake of Daniel's memory, and for his own damnable lack of self-discipline. He shouldn't be feeling things like that. He'd sworn he wouldn't. But he just kept on getting caught.

It was something of a challenge, settling on the couch together close enough to both have a good view of the computer's screen. There was no way to avoid touching and leaning, but the movie got going and pulled them in, and there was popcorn and zucchini bread to occupy their hands. If Elijah had seemed a little tense at first, that feeling quickly passed. If Sean had some trouble concentrating, well, he'd seen the film a few times before. He eased lower into the cushions so he could rest his head against the couch back and Elijah tucked up his legs and got comfortable, with his bowl of popcorn in his lap. It was good. It felt fine. With the fan overhead whapping a soft breeze and the feel of the boy's arm warmly pressing his, Sean closed his eyes and very nearly fell asleep.

"What a cool dad, huh?"

Sean forced open his eyes and fixed his attention on the movie. Being told their world is about to be struck by a meteor the size of Texas, Grace clings to her father's hand under the table. Harry is a cursing, hard fighting, no nonsense kind of guy, but he loves his little girl. Sean had to agree. "Definitely."

Elijah nodded emphatically, glancing aside at him. "Do you have a cool dad?"

It was a pointed question, coming like that. Elijah had his eyes on the film again, but Sean knew he was waiting for an answer. "Well, you'd never find my dad on an oil rig or drilling a hole in a meteor, but he drove me across two states when I was eleven to see an air show, after I went on about wanting to be a pilot. He always made time for me when I needed him to."

In a quiet, serious voice, Elijah said, "Yeah. That's what I mean. He cared about what was important to you. That's cool."

Sean couldn't doubt the boy was thinking of his own father, who sounded as uncool as they came. He finally turned a thoughtful look on Sean and asked him if he'd learned to fly a plane. Regrettably, Sean had to say he hadn't. "But I haven't crossed it off my list." Elijah smiled a sweet smile at him and went back to watching the movie. Sean tried to do the same.

The action was pretty much non-stop once they were on their way to the meteor. By the time they made their spectacular landing, Elijah was intently leaned forward, excitedly bouncing his knee. Sean was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, which was ridiculous. It wasn't late and he wasn't accustomed to crashing early, but he was wiped out. Getting a bare few hours of restless sleep a night lately might explain that. And it didn't help matters getting feet up, head back, sunk in comfortable. How long had it been since he'd relaxed of an evening and just watched some mindlessly entertaining flick? Not since he'd had someone to do it with.

In the middle of some climactic scene, to a wayward thought of that someone snuggled up against him, he blanked out. The next thing he knew, Grace was heartbrokenly saying goodbye to her Daddy, who was staying behind to detonate the nuke and save Earth. Elijah sat there with his back stiff, not bouncing now. He'd put the mostly empty popcorn bowl aside and had his hands clasped in his lap. Sean couldn't see his face but heard him sniff back a tear, and impulsively laid a comforting hand on his back. Without a word said or a glance exchanged, the boy tucked in against him, head leaned back on his shoulder.

They watched the rest of the movie like that and though Sean was awake again, he didn't notice it was over until the credits were rolling. What he found himself acutely aware of was Elijah's body touching his and the pulse beating in the pale, smooth skin of the boy's neck, and the scent of him, a confoundingly arousing scent. It was a little bit maddening, and a lot disturbing. Sean forced himself to knock it the hell off, and moved. "Hey… I need a shower."

Elijah failed to take the hint and went on leaning against him. "No you don't. You smell fine."

After sweating all day, Sean was pretty sure that wasn't true. At any rate, he needed to be on his feet and doing something. He tried again, gently nudging, and Elijah sat up, giving him a somber, unreadable look. Sean resisted apologizing, because that made no sense. He gathered up the dishes and took them to the kitchen. He was too tired to think about washing them. It could wait for morning. He poured fresh ice water for them both, and ended up back on the couch, with a reasonable distance between them.

Elijah put the DVD back in its case and offhandedly asked Sean what he thought of Liv Tyler. "Dom's gayer than gay, but he thinks she's hot." The boy sank back into the cushions looking at the DVD cover. "I don't really get it. I mean, I can see she's pretty and all, but…" He looked at Sean again. "Do you like girls?"

Sean managed a small smile. "Sure. As friends."

Elijah seemed to be wide awake and still going strong. "I like girls, too, but kissing one? It would be like kissing my sister."

Sean couldn't stifle a huge yawn. He didn't want the boy to think he wasn't captivating company, but sleep was sounding like a really good idea.

Elijah picked up on that. "You look like you're out on your feet."

"I'm fine." Sean attempted to look more lively. "Just need to wake myself up."

Elijah smiled. "You don't have to keep me company, Sean. If you're tired, you should go to bed, but I'd like to stay up a little longer. I never did write that letter to Hannah, and I'd like to try now. After I'm done, I can just curl up here."

"Trust me, Elijah, you don't want to sleep on this thing."

The boy gave him a stern, affronted look. "Why should you have to sleep on it?"

Easy answer. "Because you're my guest and you've been sick."

Elijah paused, blinking. "But I'm better now. The headache's finally gone." He looked into Sean's eyes, almost shyly. "I still can't believe you let me stay here. Anyone else would have tossed me out, but you, you gave me your bed."

Sean came very near to suggesting they could share the damned bed, but stopped himself. His mind was too tired to carefully consider all the implications of that.

"Please, Sean, I'm okay now and I want you to have your bed back."

Sean couldn't summon even a half-hearted argument. "All right. But you might change your mind before morning."

Elijah smiled sweetly. "I can take it."

Sean got himself on his feet again. "Think I'll have that shower. You go ahead and write your sister. If you need anything, just help yourself." The boy thanked him, with a soft and steady gaze that made his knees want to wobble. He smiled and nodded, and took himself off to the bathroom. Even though it might have done him some good, he couldn't face a cold shower and settled for a tepid one. Clearly, his resolve to be a big brother to the boy was going to take some serious self-discipline. No, that wasn't true. He was in complete control of his actions. It was the thinking and feeling he had to work on, or he was sure to slip up and send Elijah scurrying for cover again.

_Enough, Seanie. You don't have to always think a thing to death. Let it be._

Let it be. That was Daniel's philosophy about most things. If it was meant to happen, it would happen.

_There is very little a mere mortal can do to sway fate, my dear boy. You have to let life flow over and around you and take you where it will._

Sean had never believed that. Could he have said, 'Ah well, it's fate,' and let Daniel go without a fight? No.

_It was a fight you couldn't win, love. But you had to make it a crusade and now you feel you failed. Let it be._

Sean ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was too tired for this. He turned off the water, smearing back his soppy hair, and stepped out of the shower to grab a towel. He felt shaky and off balance, and didn't tarry to confront himself in the mirror, just quickly dried and found some clean sweats to put on. It was too hot, when he was used to sleeping in nothing, but he didn't think it was going to keep him awake that night.

In the kitchen, he poured another half glass of cold water down his dry throat, and left the fan on high. The light was low, just a lamp over the couch. Elijah was busy at the computer there, writing his letter. Sean went quietly so as not to disturb the boy, getting out a pillow and blanket and laying them on the table where he'd find them, and then winding Daniel's clock. The bed was haphazardly made but looked very inviting. He flicked off all the bedding but a light sheet and crawled in.

For a little while he lay there staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the tick-a-tick of the boy's typing. His mind was restless still and insisted on conjuring a memory of himself at his desk writing while Daniel patiently waited for him in their bed. If he turned and looked over his shoulder, he would see Daniel's eyes in the shadow, watching him. Except that Daniel's eyes weren't blue, which made it more a wish than a memory.

Sean sighed deeply and rolled over to bury his face in the pillow. His pillow, smelling of Elijah. It jarred him with a pang of longing and wrapped him in comfort at the same time, and he didn't have the strength to roll away and give it up, not with Daniel tenderly whispering in his ear to just let it be.


	11. Chapter 11

Elijah sat back and read through the two paragraphs it had taken him the last twenty minutes to write. Frowning, he used the backspace key to delete everything he'd typed, then growled "Fuck" under his breath when he saw that the only thing left on the screen was _Dear Hannah._ There was nothing he couldn't talk about with Hannah. After Mom was gone, Hannah was the only one he _could_ talk to. They shared everything, so why was he having so much trouble writing this letter?

_And you'll let me know once you get settled?_

He'd promised Hannah he would, but he wasn't anywhere near settled, and didn't know when he would be. He could tell her he'd stopped moving for now, but once the car was fixed and he was on his way again, there was no telling how long he'd have to keep traveling. And hearing that would only start her worrying all over again. Hannah had reason to worry. He was only safe for the moment because of Sean.

What would Hannah think of Sean? Elijah planned to tell her about him, but wasn't sure where to start. With Pedar he'd learned that people weren't always who you thought they were, but that didn't seem to be the case with Sean. From what Elijah had seen so far, Sean was just what he appeared to be, gentle and caring, a kind and generous man. Who else would have taken in a perfect stranger the way he did?

Tonight had been really nice, listening to music and eating peanut butter sandwiches while Sean cooked. It reminded him of nights he'd spent over at Dom and Billy's place, just hanging out with guys he liked, guys he could be himself with. After he'd moved in with Pedar, nights with his friends had been rare. Pedar disliked Dom and Billy and had demanded he stop seeing them. To keep the peace, Elijah only saw them when Pedar was away, and until tonight, hadn't realized just how much he missed them. They could have turned their backs on him, but when he was in trouble, they came through for him. Even with the money he'd taken from Pedar, without Dom's car he'd never have been able to get away without leaving a trail.

Dom and Billy had to be wondering how he was doing. Once he was finally settled in a new place, he'd let them know he was okay. He was never going back, and it made him sad to think he was never going to see his two best friends again. And what about Hannah? Was it possible that he was never going to see her again either? He'd already lost his mother. Was getting involved with Pedar going to cost him his sister, too? Elijah wouldn't let himself think about it. He reached absent-mindedly for the popcorn bowl before remembering that Sean had taken it into the kitchen with the rest of the zucchini bread.

When Sean said he was planning something special for dessert, Elijah had conjured up visions of chocolate cake and ice cream, but...zucchini bread? Who had vegetables for dessert? He wanted no part of it, and was dreading hurting Sean's feelings by refusing to try it, but Sean had looked so hopeful that Elijah had finally given in. To his great surprise, he'd enjoyed it. Dinner had been pretty good, too, another surprise. After the whole wheat oatmeal pancakes, it was clear that Sean believed in eating healthy, so Elijah had been prepared not to like the spaghetti, but it hadn't tasted half bad. He'd even enjoyed the salad, mostly because he'd fixed it himself. Not exactly cooking, but a start. Talking with Sean while they listened to his music, it hadn't seemed like work at all, and he'd really enjoyed helping out.

Everything had been going really well until he'd knocked over that fucking glass. Water, not wine, so it hadn't stained, but the second it had happened he'd panicked. And for what? Just a stupid accident, nothing to get upset about. It wasn't like Sean was going to hit him for being clumsy, but the old fear had gripped him just the same, and it had taken him a while to shake the feeling. Elijah could tell Sean had noticed the change in him, and was grateful he hadn't pushed to find out what was wrong.

_Bollocks_. Remembering Sean's reaction to the word made Elijah smile. So Sean's lover had been English. It sounded like he was high class English, though. Posh, Dom would have called him, but not too posh to say bollocks. At first Elijah thought his using the word had upset Sean, but Sean had just smiled, as if hearing it again had pleased him.

Watching the DVD together had been nice, too, until he'd asked Sean about his father. _Do you have a cool dad?_ Elijah shook his head. Fuck. Could he have sounded like more of a geek? But Sean hadn't laughed at him. From what Sean had said about him, his dad did sound pretty cool, and his mother and brother sounded like they were, too. The kind of man he'd grown up to be should have told Elijah that Sean had a cool dad without his having to ask. Sean's father had driven his son across two states to see an air show just because Sean had said he wanted to become a pilot. Elijah tried to imagine Warren doing such a thing. Who was he kidding? Warren wouldn't cross the street to pour water on him if Elijah was on fire.

Sean had grown up on a farm. All Elijah knew about farms was what he'd seen in movies, guys wearing bib overalls, chewing on stalks of wheat or something else home-grown, or sitting on one of those little three-legged stools milking a cow. Elijah grinned. Sean milking a cow. He'd have given a week's tips to see that. But Sean didn't seem like the type. Maybe because he'd lived almost as much of his life in the city as he had on the farm. But there were still signs of that life in him. Planting and tending his vegetable garden, chopping wood, cooking from scratch. What was that saying? You could take the boy out of the country...

Even more than imagining his life on the farm, Elijah wondered what it had been like for Sean to grow up surrounded by people who loved and accepted him, who supported him no matter what. His father driving all that distance just because it would make Sean happy. Definitely a cool dad. Maybe not Bruce Willis in _Armageddon_, but still cool.

It had been weird watching the DVD on the laptop's small screen, but once the movie started, Elijah forgot about it and got involved in the story. Sean hadn't been as into it as Elijah, had fallen asleep halfway through, which was lucky because it meant he hadn't seen Elijah crying when Harry Stamper was saying goodbye to his daughter. He'd tried not to cry, but when Gracie looked up at her father with the love shining in her eyes and said everything good that she had inside her came from him, Elijah couldn't help seeing himself in her place, wishing he'd had the chance to say those same words to his mother before she died. And before he knew it, his eyes were wet and he was sniffling.

He was so sure Sean hadn't noticed that he'd almost jumped when he felt Sean's hand come down to rest gently on his back. Leaning into Sean had been instinctive, partly out of embarrassment, but also out of the need to be near someone whose first reaction was to comfort, not condemn. He'd taken that same comfort from Sean on the dock, but tonight, like then, Sean had broken the contact first, nudging him gently, but insistently, until Elijah had no choice but to sit up.

Elijah yawned. Maybe trying to write Hannah tonight hadn't been such a good idea after all. It had been a tiring day, with that walk down to the lake, then telling Sean all that stuff about Pedar. He hadn't planned on saying so much, but Sean had made him feel so comfortable that the words had just come tumbling out. He thought it would be hard to talk about having sex with Pedar, such a private, personal thing, but it hadn't been. Maybe because Sean was so accepting and didn't make him feel like he'd gotten what he deserved just because he'd been stupid enough to fall for Pedar. Sean seemed to understand, and Elijah really did feel better now that everything was out in the open. He yawned again and decided to call it a night. Hannah's letter had waited this long, it could wait a little longer. He shut down the laptop and was about to lie down when he remembered his contacts. His lens case and cleaning solution were in his bag. Which was still in the bathroom. Fuck.

It wasn't easy to make his way across the room by the low light of the one lamp, but Elijah managed. He tried to do it as quietly as he could so he wouldn't disturb Sean, not that there seemed much chance of that. Sean had fallen asleep right away. Elijah heard snoring from across the room about ten minutes after Sean climbed into his bed. Poor guy had to be exhausted. He couldn't have gotten much sleep in the last two days, which was Elijah's fault. Elijah wouldn't have minded another night in the bed, but it wouldn't have been right to ask. He'd been sick when he first got to the cabin, but he was well now, better at least, so it was only fair that Sean have his bed back again. And now that he had it back, the least Elijah could do was not wake him up.

Elijah slipped inside the bathroom and closed the door. When he turned on the light, he saw that his bag was still where he'd left it. He fished out his small plastic lens case and filled it with solution, then removed his contacts and dropped them into the liquid. Leaving the case on the sink for morning, he took out his lubricating drops. The heat was making his eyes feel dryer than usual, so he put drops in both eyes, then put the bottle back and returned his bag to its place under the sink.

As he stood up, Elijah caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and was surprised to see that his bruises were still pretty colorful. Somehow he'd expected them to have faded, pretty stupid since his old bruises hadn't even disappeared before Pedar had begun wailing on him again, angrier than Elijah had ever seen him. Elijah had taken such a beating that he was afraid Pedar was going to cancel his business trip, but Pedar had left as planned, even made Elijah ride with him in the limo to the airport. Normally Pedar's driver Karl would have stayed around to drive him while Pedar was away, but Elijah told him he wasn't planning on going anywhere and that he should enjoy his freedom until Pedar got back. Karl was a nice guy, and Elijah hoped he hadn't lost his job -- or worse --because of it. It seemed so long ago, but it had been less than a week since he'd left Pedar, and he'd only been here in Sean's cabin...could it really be only three days? It seemed longer somehow, but in a good way.

Not expecting to need his glasses, he left them on the sink. He gave his teeth a quick brush, then figured he'd better pee so he wouldn't have to get up during the night. Without thinking, he flushed the toilet, then cringed at how loud it sounded in the silence of the cabin. Since Sean was sleeping practically right outside the door, the noise had probably woken him. Elijah turned off the light before he opened the door, then stepped outside and looked over at the bed. To his relief, he saw Sean was still asleep.

On his way back to the couch, he found the pillow and blanket Sean had laid out for him on the kitchen table. As tired as he was, he had still taken the time to make sure Elijah would be comfortable. Sean really was the kindest, most considerate man Elijah had ever met. It was too hot to need a blanket, but he spread it over the couch so he could lie on it rather than use it to cover himself. It wasn't a regular couch, but a loveseat, with just enough room for two. Even before he'd leaned against Sean, they'd been sitting practically on top of each other, but Elijah hadn't minded the closeness, even if Sean had.

The loveseat cushions were soft. Elijah couldn't understand why Sean thought he wouldn't be comfortable sleeping on it until he stretched out his legs and found them hanging over the armrest. He wasn't any taller than Sean, so if he couldn't stretch out, Sean wouldn't have been able to either. So he'd have to sleep with his legs tucked up. No big deal.

Stripping down to his boxers, he turned off the lamp and lay down, but despite how much he wanted it, sleep didn't come. Restless, he turned over onto his other side, then turned back almost immediately. Moments later he was on his back with his knees bent. No matter what position he tried, he couldn't get comfortable, but he didn't think it was all because of the loveseat. Even so, when Sean got up in the morning, the first thing Elijah was going to do was thank him for the sacrifice he'd made in giving up his bed for the past two nights.

He was keenly aware of every sound. The ticking of the clock on the mantle. The whirring of the ceiling fan. The chirping of the crickets. The croaking of the frogs. Each seemed magnified to his ears. Back home he could sleep through car alarms, police sirens and garbage men banging empty cans, so it seemed unlikely the gentle sounds surrounding him would be keeping him awake. To his surprise, he found them oddly comforting. After that last camping trip with Warren and Zach, Elijah had vowed he'd never set foot in the woods again, but these woods were different somehow. Or maybe it was having someone like Sean there with him that made them seem that way.

Deciding sitting up might be more comfortable, he eased his back against the cushions, let his head rest against the couch back and propped his feet up on the coffee table. After the day he'd had, all he wanted was to shut down for the night, but he couldn't turn off his mind. Could a person be tired and wired at the same time?

Maybe he could listen to music or watch another DVD until he felt drowsy. Sean had headphones for the laptop, so Elijah wouldn't have to worry about disturbing him. And as a last resort, there was always the bookshelf. He hadn't been kidding when he said Sean's book put him to sleep. Maybe if he started reading it... Just the thought of using Sean's book that way made Elijah feel guilty. After all Sean's kindness, Elijah couldn't do that to him, even if there was no way Sean would know about it. No, he'd fall asleep on his own eventually. He just needed to relax and let it happen.

After sitting up for another five minutes or so, Elijah lay down again and tried just willing himself to shut down, but it didn't work. The loveseat really was a tight squeeze, even for someone his height. It was a real joke calling it a loveseat because no one could make love on it. There was no fucking way, although it might be interesting to try. From what Sean had said, he and Daniel didn't listen to music or watch DVD's here at the cabin, so why had they bought it in the first place? Unless... _An Affair To Remember_. Elijah had wondered what such a sappy love story had been doing among all the other DVD's, but now it made sense. Sean hadn't just loved Daniel, he'd been _in_ love with him, and Elijah bet he had liked sitting on the loveseat when he was feeling romantic.

Even though he had no idea what Daniel looked like, Elijah could picture Sean sitting on the loveseat with him, the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, or maybe just holding each other. The idea of two gay men so in love they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together made Elijah smile, and he felt some of the tightness in his muscles loosen. Hugging his pillow against his chest, he thought how awesome it would be if that kind of true love really exited. He secretly believed it did, and hoped one day he'd be lucky enough to be loved the way Sean loved Daniel.

"Loveseat," Elijah muttered as his eyelids began to droop. A minute later he was asleep.  


> **The day really blows.**
> 
> First Period History, a surprise mid-term that's a surprise only to Elijah. He swore it was next week and was planning to study hard for it, try to bring his grade up. But he got the date wrong so instead of studying last night he picked up an extra shift at the restaurant.
> 
> Then tonight when he was clearing his last table, some asshole so drunk he could barely stand got up from his table and plowed right into him. He'd dropped his tray and everything on it. Glasses and dishes smashed, food all over the place. Such a fucking mess it had taken him forever to clean up, making him so late he'd run the five blocks to the Port Authority and still nearly missed the last bus.
> 
> As he turns the corner onto his street Elijah sees the house is dark. Finally a break. After the day he's had, the last thing he needs is Warren on his case about coming in so late. He knows Warren doesn't care _if_ he comes home, much less when, but it would be another chance to tear him down, something Warren relishes. He uses his key to let himself in and makes his way up the stairs in the dark. He's not even going to get undressed, just drop onto the bed and sleep until morning.
> 
> When he opens the door to his room the light momentarily startles him and he shuts his eyes. When he opens them again he sees -- what the fuck! -- Warren is sitting on his bed. So the old man waited up after all, just to give him grief. At first he thinks he's just in for the usual lecture. How selfish he is. How he has no consideration for anyone. How he only thinks of himself. He's heard it so many times he has it memorized. He begins to tune it out before Warren even begins to speak. Then he sees what Warren is holding.
> 
> It wasn't hidden, but he never expected Warren would even go into his room, much less search it. He's embarrassed at first, but embarrassment gives way to anger for this invasion of his privacy. He tries to grab the magazine out of Warren's hand. "You have no right to go through my things," he says as Warren pulls it out of reach. "This is my room."
> 
> "This is my house," Warren counters, "and as long as you're living here, I won't allow this kind of filth under my roof." Warren holds the magazine up by the corner and it falls open to its stapled middle, revealing the photo of a naked man wearing a defiant expression and aiming his fully-erect cock at the camera as if it were a weapon.
> 
> Elijah grabs for it again, but Warren stands and his greater height still keeps it out of reach. He tries another tact. "You wouldn't care if it was a woman in that picture, would you? If I liked looking at pussy you'd be patting me on the back because it would prove I was a real man. You just can't deal with the fact that your son gets off on cock."
> 
> The vein in Warren's temple is throbbing, but his face shows amazing control. "I just thank God your mother didn't live to see this day. She was always disappointed in you, but this would have broken her heart."
> 
> "That's a lie!" Elijah explodes. "Mom loved me. She was the only one who understood me. She loved me for who I was, not who _you_ thought I should be. You're the one who broke her heart. I watched you beat down her spirit every day until there was nothing left. She had to die to get away from you, you pious son of a bitch!"
> 
> When the blow comes, it has the force of Warren's full weight behind it. Elijah lands on the floor, banging his head and sending his glasses flying. Like a cartoon character pounded by a gigantic hammer, he sees stars, but he ignores them and manages to sit up, leaning against the dresser for support. He can taste blood in his mouth and he's pretty sure one of his teeth is loose, but he won't let the old man see how much he's hurting. Warren's figure is a big blur as Elijah tells him, "Is that all you've got? For God's right-hand man, you don't pack much of a punch."
> 
> Hands pressed together as if in prayer, Warren says, "I know the Lord is testing me, but what man has ever had to deal with such a son as you?" He steps on the magazine, now lying crumpled on the floor. "Isn't it bad enough that you give in to your unnatural desires? Must you also add blasphemy to your sins?" He shakes his head. "How could such a child come from my seed?"
> 
> "Maybe I didn't," Elijah says. Despite the pounding in his head, he manages to stand. "Maybe Mom found someone to love her the way she deserved to be loved."
> 
> The words are meant to wound, but instead they enrage. Warren lunges at him, and before Elijah realizes what's happening, Warren's hands are around his throat. Elijah tries to escape, pulling with all his might at the large hands, but Warren's rage has given him incredible strength. Elijah feels himself being lifted off the floor and hangs there, his feet kicking wildly. And while he's being held, those hands are squeezing his throat, trying to squeeze the life right out of him.
> 
> Suddenly there's a scream. It's Hannah, her voice terrified and pleading. "Stop Daddy! Let him go! Please Daddy! You're going to kill him!"
> 
> The fear in his sister's voice is the last thing Elijah hears before he passes out.

Elijah woke up gasping for breath. Bile rose in his throat and he stumbled to his feet, almost knocking over the table and everything on it in his race for the door. He knew he wasn't going to make it off the porch in time, so he flung himself at the edge, barely getting his head over the railing before he began to retch. Hanging on for dear life, he threw up everything he'd eaten for dinner. Each time he thought he'd emptied the contents of his stomach, he found there was more. He lost count of how many times he vomited until finally, mercifully, there wasn't anything left to come up. Sinking down onto the porch, he rested his face against the wooden slats and drew in deep breaths.

Moving seemed like it would take more effort than he was able to give. Elijah thought about just staying where he was, but despite the muggy night air, even with his sweat-soaked tee-shirt stuck to his skin, he felt cold, so using the railing for support, he raised himself to his feet and stepped back. He kept moving until he felt one of the chairs against the back of his knees, then dropped down onto it. Pulling his feet up onto the seat, he hugged his legs and shivered.

The nightmare had haunted his dreams long after that night in his bedroom, but it had been years since he'd had it, the last time right after he'd moved in with Pedar. Why would it come back now when he'd had such a nice time with Sean? Maybe all that talk about cool dads had dredged up the memory. _Serves you right for letting your guard down_, he told himself. How could he have allowed himself to get so comfortable, even for a few hours?

Fuck he needed a cigarette. For want of something else to satisfy the craving, he started in on his thumbnail. It was already bitten down to the quick, but he stuck it between his teeth anyway, gnawing on it until he tasted blood. Disgusted, he wiped the thumb on his tee-shirt. Did people actually try quitting cold turkey? No wonder so many of them failed. He remembered the last cigarette he'd smoked still had some length on it when he stubbed it out. Maybe if the ashtray was still on the kitchen counter... He shook his head. Scrounging for used butts was pathetic. No way he was that desperate yet.

Tomorrow he'd ask Sean if he'd mind going to the store and buying him cigarettes, or if he was feeling well enough, maybe he'd go with Sean so he could buy them himself. By tomorrow he'd have cigarettes again. Just another couple of hours to go. He could hold out until then. Just another couple of hours, or maybe more judging by how dark it still was. Catching a few more hours of sleep would do him good, but he wouldn't chance sleep bringing on another nightmare. He touched his fingers to his throat, feeling for long-gone tenderness. Phantom pains.

Elijah was still shivering. If his fever was back, it was probably best not to stay outside too long. Holding on to the arm of the chair, he stood up slowly and when he knew he was steady enough to walk, went back inside, moving cautiously in the dark as he made his way back to the loveseat. He found the jeans he'd dropped on the floor and slipped them on, then draped the blanket around his shoulders and sat down. What he needed was something to take his mind off his cigarettes and his nightmare, something that would get him through the night. Things would look better in the morning. Sean would be up then and...shit. With all the noise he'd made, running outside, throwing up, surely Sean had heard him. He was probably awake right now. Fuck. Elijah stood up and looked, but he was too far away to see clearly. At that distance, without his glasses, Sean was only a blur. He moved closer, inching his way across the room until he was standing right beside the bed.

Sean was still asleep, blissfully unaware that anything had happened. Elijah was glad about that. He'd done nothing but take from Sean since he came to the cabin. It was nice to be able to give something back, even if it was just letting Sean sleep in his own bed again. Sleeping there had felt wonderful. It wasn't king-sized, didn't have satin sheets, but for the two nights he'd slept in that bed, he'd felt more at home there than he ever had in Pedar's.

He still felt bad about the way he'd acted when he woke up and found Sean on the bed with him. Two guys could sleep in the same bed. It didn't have to mean anything. Once when Billy was in Scotland visiting his family, Elijah had stayed overnight at the apartment, had slept in the same bed with Dom. Nothing had happened because Dom was his friend, but this morning had been different. He'd been taken by surprise. Even though he'd told Sean he wasn't scared, it had been a lie. He had been scared, but he didn't feel that way now. From his first day at the cabin Elijah had realized that he had nothing to fear from Sean's touch, but he hadn't realized until Sean held him on the dock that he could find comfort in that touch.

Just three days ago he couldn't bear to be near another man, but tonight he had reached out to Sean, had actually sought out that comfort, and as he stood beside the bed, felt the need to do so again. He sat on the corner of the bed. When Sean didn't move, he lay down, keeping as close to the edge as possible, and turned on his side to face Sean. Sean was lying on his back, his head sunk deep into his pillow, dead to the world. Elijah watched him, and found that hearing Sean's steady breathing, and watching his chest slowly rise and fall made him feel calmer. The dream about Warren had shaken Elijah more than he thought it could, and though he was ashamed to admit it, he didn't want to be alone. Sean wasn't awake, but having him near helped.

He wasn't going to sleep, Elijah told himself, just lie there. Not for long. Just until he felt a little more in control. Maybe he'd stay until dawn. That would be okay. Elijah let out the breath he'd been holding and closed his eyes. As soon as it was light, he'd go back to the loveseat. Sean would never even know he'd been there.


	12. Chapter 12

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000b8z1/)

Sean half woke in the still twilight before dawn with an ache in his heart. If he'd been dreaming, all that was left of it was a shadow of sadness. He lingered there between sleep and waking, feeling Daniel in his arms and wanting to hold tight to the illusion for as long as he could. But it persisted, the presence of another body in close proximity, the warmth, the contact. Reality settled in slowly. He was in his own bed. But he wasn't alone.

He lay very still, listening to Elijah's steady breathing. It was hot, even at that hour, the fan wafting a warm breeze over them, their clothes plastered with sweat where they touched. There would be some explaining to do for sure, on both sides, but he didn't care for the moment to worry over how he'd gotten himself into such a situation. He just didn't want it to end, not yet. It had been an age since he'd even wanted to touch or be touched. He couldn't in that moment understand how he'd lived the way he had for the past year.

Too soon, Sean heard a small hitch in the boy's breathing, and felt him wake, his body tensing slightly. He was turned away, back to Sean's front. Sean pretended to be asleep and lay there quiet, one arm limply draped over the boy. After a little while, the tension eased and it felt just right. Sean could almost have drifted off again. Almost. If his body hadn't decided this touching was too good a thing to resist. He was abruptly wide awake and all he could reasonably do was let it go. He rolled away and sat up.

It was too dark still to see much of anything, but Sean felt Elijah roll over, felt the boy looking up at him. Sean scrubbed his eyes with his palms. "Damn. Elijah, I don't know how...why..."

"It's not your fault," Elijah broke in, his voice wavering. "You were right about the couch. I couldn't get comfortable, just kept tossing and turning. And it looked like there was plenty of room on the bed with you way over there."

Sean drew in a breath and sighed. "Sorry. I'm not sure what I get up to in the night, but I don't always wake where I started."

Elijah's voice came again, soft and hesitant. "It's all right."

But it really wasn't. Sean threw his legs over the side of the mattress, getting up on the wrong side of the bed. How appropriate. "It's early, Elijah. Go back to sleep." Elijah said nothing. Sean went out onto the porch, to get a breath and watch the gathering dawn, to think about anything but the feel of Elijah's butt backed up against his groin. Hell.

He leaned on the railing, determined to ignore it away. One dim star winked in the hazy, dark sky above and then disappeared. All was silent, not a breeze stirring, until the hollow drumming of a woodpecker broke the stillness and before long the woods were alive with animalkind greeting the new day. A lingering raccoon passed by under the eave of the trees and ambled off into the wood, taking the night with it. Out on the lake, the loons were calling. Sean breathed it all in, the peacefulness and harmony. Morning dawned as he stood there. The clouds in the sky were already wisping away to nothing with the rising of the sun. Another dusty dry day ahead.

Sean went inside and quietly started a pot of coffee brewing. There was no sound or movement from the bed. Elijah must have gone back to sleep. Sean left the lights off and just took himself into the bathroom and closed the door.

*******

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000c1h6/)

Elijah opened his eyes as soon as he heard the bathroom door close. He'd made such a mess of things. Climbing onto the bed last night after all the fuss he'd made yesterday when Sean had done the same thing. Sean had to think he was crazy.

The worst part had been Sean apologizing, as if it had been his fault. Telling Sean he'd come on the bed because the loveseat was uncomfortable had been cowardly. He should have just told him the truth, that he hadn't wanted to be alone, but he was afraid Sean would think he was acting like a kid. Elijah hadn't wanted Sean to laugh at him, so instead he'd lied and made Sean feel as if _he'd_ done something wrong. Fuck! It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to get up and go back to the loveseat before Sean woke up, but he'd fallen asleep and Sean had found him there...

Elijah blinked. He'd fallen asleep...and there hadn't been any nightmares. His relief was short-lived as he remembered his good night's sleep had been at Sean's expense. Sean had been kind when he woke up and found Elijah in his bed, but Elijah knew he hadn't liked it. His sitting up so quickly when he found Elijah beside him had made that pretty clear.

Waking up beside Sean had been a surprise for Elijah, too, but not an unpleasant one. After the initial shock of finding it there, Sean's arm draped across his waist had felt nice, comforting, like on the dock and on the couch, but it hadn't been intentional on Sean's part. It had just been a natural physical reaction to having someone close. Plus Sean had been asleep, so he probably didn't even know he'd done it. Elijah was sure he'd felt the beginning of an erection pressing against his ass, but if he had, that was only natural, too. Most guys woke up with hardons and Sean was probably no different. It didn't mean anything, especially since the minute he was awake, Sean had moved so they weren't touching anymore. With all the trouble Elijah had been to him since showing up at the cabin, Sean no doubt regretted his offer of hospitality. He was probably counting the hours until the car was fixed and Elijah was out of his hair.

It was light now, and not wanting Sean to find him still in bed when he came back, Elijah got up. He hadn't even rinsed his mouth after getting sick, so he could only imagine what his breath was like this morning. Pouring himself a glass of ice water from the fridge, he went out onto the porch and took a mouthful, then after swishing it around in his mouth for a minute or so, spit it out. It wouldn't help much, but it would have to do until he could get into the bathroom and brush his teeth. When he came back inside he saw that Sean had made coffee. He poured himself a cup and had just sat down at the table to drink it when Sean came out of the bathroom.

For a minute Elijah thought Sean was going to apologize again, but he said, "I see you found the coffee. What would you like for breakfast?"

The thought of food made Elijah blanche. He held up the coffee mug. "I'm okay with this, thanks."

"Elijah, if you're going to get your strength back, you need to eat."

"I'm fine, Sean, really," Elijah told him. "The truth is, my stomach's kind of queasy this morning." He sipped his coffee and grimaced. He'd forgotten to add sugar. "I got sick again after you went to bed. Threw up everything I ate last night."

Sean frowned. "My spaghetti sauce made you sick. I'm sorry, Elijah."

"It wasn't the sauce," Elijah said quickly. "It was really good. I enjoyed it a lot. I enjoyed everything. I didn't get sick because of anything I ate." He bit his lip. "I had a nightmare, a bad one. I woke up scared and feeling so sick to my stomach that I ran out onto the porch and threw up over the railing. I made a mess outside. I'm sorry."

Sean waved it away. "That doesn't matter. Are you feeling better now?"

Elijah nodded. "I'm okay." Sean being so nice about things made Elijah feel even more guilty than he already did. "Look, Sean, when I said I got on the bed because the couch wasn't comfortable, that wasn't the whole truth."

Sean didn't ask what the whole truth was, just waited to be told.

"I felt really shaky after the nightmare," Elijah went on, "and I..." Fuck why was it so hard to just say what he felt? He lowered his eyes, unable to face Sean when he admitted it. "...I didn't want to be alone." When he looked up again he saw the corners of Sean's mouth turn up slightly. "Go ahead and laugh," Elijah told him. "I know you think I'm a wuss."

Sean wasn't smiling now. "I don't think you're a wuss, and I'm certainly not going to laugh at you. I just wish you'd called me. I'm much better company when I'm awake."

"I couldn't wake you, Sean," Elijah protested, "not on your first night back in your own bed. I wasn't going to stay long anyway. Once I felt better, I was going back to the couch, but I fell asleep. I'm sorry I fucked up."

"You didn't," Sean replied. "I didn't even know you were sleeping next to me until I woke up. You don't have to apologize, Elijah. There was no harm done." Sean glanced back at the stove. "Are you sure you don't want to eat something?"

"I'm sure." Elijah put his hand over his mouth as if he was about to be sick again. "Just the thought of it..."

*******

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000d314/)

Considering his lousy judgment so far in the matter, Sean supposed he'd better just ease off. He went to pour himself a cup of coffee, then quietly settled across the table from Elijah. "Do you want to talk about it? The bad dream."

Elijah didn't quite look at Sean, but a pained expression flickered over his face. "I can't. Not yet." He got up and took his coffee to the counter to put sugar in it.

Sean watched him, concerned. "Coffee probably won't help your stomach. I could fix you some herbal tea."

Elijah gave him a weak smile. "No thanks. My stomach's better. I just don't feel like eating right now."

All right then, Sean told himself, and considered that Elijah might feel like eating if there was anything in the cabin he actually liked. The boy sat at the table again, but hesitantly, like he really wanted to be somewhere else. He fidgeted, staring into his coffee cup, bouncing his knee. Sean pushed back his chair and got up. "I think I'll go into town. I need to pick up a few things. Is there anything particular you'd like, Elijah?"

The boy looked up at him, all bright eyes and dark brows drawn into a frown. It looked as if he was holding some debate in his head. Sean smiled a little, offering encouragement, and Elijah finally came out with it.

"Cigarettes?"

Sean somehow hadn't expected that and it caused him a serious pang. He couldn't guess what showed on his face, but Elijah looked away.

"I know they won't have cloves, but I'll take anything."

It wasn't as if Sean had never been put in that position. Daniel had done it to him too many times, and he'd always given in. He heard himself saying, "Sure." He cleared his throat and added, "Anything else?"

Elijah winced, like he really didn't want to ask. "Um, batteries...for my Walkman."

Sean almost sighed with relief. That was easy.

Elijah reached into his back pocket for his wallet, extracted a twenty and held it out. "This'll be enough for the smokes and the batteries, won't it?"

Sean shook his head. "There's no need for that. I've got a supply of rechargeables, all kinds." He went to his desk and opened a drawer to show Elijah. "In here. Just help yourself." While he was there, he took out the camera and went and set it on the table. "You can play around with this if you need something to do."

Elijah found a smile and gave it to him, already eyeing the camera case.

Sean was glad to see the boy's interest roused. He picked up his coffee and gulped it down, then took the cup to the sink and pocketed the shopping list he already had made, along with the keys to the Jeep. "There's a pair of binoculars too, same drawer. In case you'd like to get a closer look at the wildlife."

Elijah looked dubious but said, "Maybe."

Sean got himself a pair of clean socks and went to sit on the couch and put on his boots. Elijah came and went out onto the porch with him. The sun was well up, but below the trees still. It was early. Sean had to wonder what he was in such a rush about. To get away from the boy? Not likely. But maybe. Elijah hovered close, so close Sean was sorely temped to hug him, just a brotherly see-you-later hug, so he told himself. But because he wasn't sure of that, he refrained.

Elijah scuffed his bare toes on the decking and wrapped his arms around his middle, but met Sean's eyes at last. "Thanks."

Regardless what that thanks was for, it warmed Sean inside. "It's my pleasure, Elijah."

*******

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000eya5/)

Elijah didn't let his arms drop to his sides until after Sean's jeep was out of sight. For a split second as Sean was leaving, Elijah had felt the urge to put his arms around Sean and hug him. Just a friendly hug, to thank him again for his kindness and understanding. Elijah had been surprised by the feeling, but it had felt so natural and so right that he had started to reach out. Then he'd remembered Sean's reaction to their closeness in bed, his pulling away once he woke and felt their bodies touching. So Elijah had stopped himself just in time, wrapping his arms around himself instead. He stayed on the porch until the sound of the engine had faded, then went inside.

Before Sean left he was going to settle for a quick clean-up, just washing his hands and face and brushing his teeth, but now that Sean was gone, Elijah decided he had time for a shower. He peeled off his sweaty clothes and dropped them on the floor, then rummaged in his bag for his soap and shampoo. There had been a huge selection to choose from at the Stop 'n Shop, so many "flavors" that he'd felt like he was in the produce section of the supermarket rather than the drug aisle. He'd finally decided on Milk &amp; Honey body wash and Kiwi Essence shampoo. Stepping under the spray, Elijah opened the bottle of body wash and squeezed a good portion of the liquid into his hand. Its scent filled his nostrils, reminding him of his home, his home the way it had been before the death of his mother. It was a comforting smell, gentle and familiar.

Pedar would have called the soap plain, considered it commonplace. Because he wanted nothing to do with the ordinary, Pedar didn't buy his toiletries at the drug store like everyone else. Instead, he had shampoo and body wash made with fragrances created exclusively for him. At first Elijah had loved using them because when he smelled them on his skin and in his hair, it was like always having Pedar near him. Now just remembering the exotic scents was painful, a reminder of the life he was trying to escape, and of how stupid he'd been to be dazzled by the kind of wealth that had afforded Pedar such extravagancies.

Elijah soaped his body, then lathered his hair with the shampoo. Their scents might have been commonplace by Pedar's standards, but to Elijah, being here, out of Pedar's reach, nothing had ever smelled so good. He'd gotten smaller bottles so they'd take less room in his bag, but now he wasn't sure how long what he had would last him. When Sean had asked what he wanted from the store, he should have added soap and shampoo to the list, along with his cigarettes. _Next time_, Elijah thought, then realized how silly that was. He was only going to be at the cabin a few more days until the car was fixed, and what he had would be more than enough to last him until then.

The shower was refreshing and went a long way toward making him feel human again, even though after he stepped out of the stall, the moisture in the air made him feel like he was still standing under the spray. He brushed his teeth then checked his face in the mirror. Even though he hadn't shaved in days, only a few wispy hairs decorated his upper lip and chin. He was going to dig out his own disposable razor, but on a whim took Sean's from where it lay on the sink and used it. His face was still damp enough from the shower that after only a few strokes, his skin was smooth again.

Elijah reached for his glasses, then opted for his contacts instead and watched the world come back into sharp focus. As much as he dreaded putting clothes on, he had no choice. At least he wouldn't have to borrow any more of Sean's clothes now that his were clean, most of them still in the dryer. He emptied it, putting his clothes and Sean's into separate piles on the bed. He chose his oldest, softest pair of jeans. They were stained in spots and had holes in the knees and at the crotch, but he just couldn't bring himself to throw them out.

Even a cotton tee-shirt felt too heavy in this heat, but it was either that or a sweatshirt. One of the few plain shirts he owned was on top of his pile and he slipped it on. He owned mostly concert tees, the majority from bands he'd seen live, but others he'd picked up in thrift shops. Many featured bands that had broken up before he was born, but that didn't matter. It was all about the music.

Elijah remembered Sean's face last night when he'd heard the Beach Boys music coming from the laptop's CD player. First he'd looked incredulous at Elijah's choice, but then the music had made him smile. Sean had a wonderful smile, so open and honest. Somewhere in his collection was a yellow Beach Boys tee from their 1982 tour. Elijah made a note to look for it later. Maybe if Sean saw him in it he'd remember the music and smile like that again.

Much as he wanted to go straight for Sean's camera, Elijah felt guilty about checking it out before he'd done something useful around the cabin. He cleaned the shower stall and the bathroom sink, then gathered his towels and dirty clothes to put in the washer. Sean had changed his sweaty clothes, too, only he had deposited them neatly in the hamper instead of just dropping them on the floor the way Elijah had done. Elijah added Sean's dirty clothes to his and started the machine. He and Sean had washed all the dinner dishes last night, but there were the two coffee mugs from this morning, so he washed them and put them in the drainboard. Deciding he'd done sufficient work to warrant a little leisure time, Elijah sat at the table and opened the camera case.

It was a high-end digital. Not as many bells and whistles as the one Pedar had given him, but a very good camera. Elijah turned it on but nothing happened. If Sean hadn't used it in a while the battery was probably dead. Elijah opened the battery chamber and saw the camera took an ion battery that would take hours to charge. He looked through the drawer, but there was no spare battery and no recharging unit. His shoulders sank in disappointment. He was about to put the camera back in the drawer when a thought struck him. Sliding the battery out, he checked inside the chamber and sure enough, the camera also took alkaline batteries. His enthusiasm quickly returning, Elijah took out four of Sean's rechargeable AA's and inserted them into the camera. He pressed the power button again and the camera hummed to life.

Feeling like a kid with a new toy, Elijah sought out a subject, and after a quick glance around the cabin, zeroed in on the mantle clock. Once he had it in focus, he snapped the picture, but there was no flash. What the fuck? Instead of a picture, what Elijah saw on the view screen were the words **Memory Full!**

******

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000fg5q/)

As if it made a difference, Sean chose superlights, the ones that touted the lowest percentage of poison, in menthol, because that was what Daniel had smoked. He performed the task as dispassionately as he could, but the feel and weight of a fresh pack of cigarettes in his hand brought up inevitable memories.

Sean laid the pack on the counter with everything else, and checked his list. He couldn't believe he'd found Pop Tarts. He'd picked up two boxes of the fruity ones, no icing, but changed his mind at the last moment and switched them for iced. Grape jelly. Cereal. Soda pop. You'd think he was feeding a gang of nine year olds.

Jenkins seemed amused. That was different. "Your company's staying on a bit, looks like."

Sean packed his box and avoided looking at the man. "Only until the car's fixed." He didn't want Jenkins getting any ideas. "Mail?"

"Nope."

Nothing? There was always junk mail. A man couldn't go far enough.

"You picked up a good bundle on Tuesday."

Sean glanced at the man and nodded. He had, but he didn't remember going through it, damn. What the hell had he done with it? He wrote out his check and paid for his purchases, then decided on a whim to get a paper. The cigarettes were displayed on an open rack where any kid could walk in and swipe them. The newspapers were kept behind the counter. Sean asked Jenkins for a copy of the local daily, and paid for it with cash. Jenkins gave him a curious look but said nothing.

There were boxes in the back of the Jeep, all empty. He vaguely remembered putting a box in the storage cellar under the cabin. He'd have to check there for the lost mail, if something else didn't drive it from his mind. He made a quick stop for fuel, topped off the Jeep's tank and filled the empty cans for the generator, then headed home.

It couldn't be later than mid-morning and it was already sweltering. With Elijah's pack of smokes tucked into his shirt pocket, it felt like six years in the past, making an emergency cigarette run for Daniel. He blamed himself, for not doing enough then when it might have mattered, for giving in time and again. If he'd put his foot down just once, maybe.

_You were never responsible for my bad habits, love, and you aren't responsible for his._

Sean wiped his sweating brow on his shirtsleeve. He felt responsible. How much of yourself did you have to give another person before you had the right to say, 'You're killing yourself and I want you to stop now.' Daniel had no answer for that. Sean did, in a way. Where it concerned Elijah, he had no right at all.

Daniel's voice in his head softly sighed. _What is it about him, Sean? What are you really feeling?_

It was a fair question. There was no longer any denying he was affected by the boy. He'd felt a stirring since the moment he walked in and found Elijah asleep at his table. It had been purely physical, egged on by the need he'd denied for more than a year. Elijah attracted him, and it had been so long. He'd rightly suppressed it, as much as he could. And it had grown into something more.

_What do you want, Sean?_

Sean's breath hitched. He wanted someone to share his life with, someone to care for and worry about, someone to love.

_Is that all?_

No. "I want Elijah."

_There now, was that so hard?_

"Yes," Sean hissed. "And it doesn't matter anyway. He doesn't want me."

Daniel's voice purred in his ear. _You don't know that, Seanie. Why are you being so stubborn? It feels good thinking of these things again, doesn't it? He's lovely and sweet, and he excites you. My dear boy, it's only natural._

Sean practically growled. "It isn't all about sex. He deserves better."

Daniel's tone went deadly serious. _What about you? Don't you deserve anything?_

Tensed and shaking, Sean pulled off the road onto his overgrown lane, and stopped. It wasn't any cooler under the trees, but the faintly shifting dapple of sunlight on the windshield offered an illusion of shade, and calm. What it all came down to was love. Elijah needed to be loved. And Sean was finding he still had plenty to give.

_As I've been telling you all along, dearest._

Sean squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't fooling himself anymore. Daniel was dead and gone. He was arguing with himself, and losing. Grief washed over him, as shattering as if it was still sharp and new, but it eventually passed and left only sadness, and even that faded away as he sat there breathing in the heat and the smell of the wood all around him, wondering if it was possible.

Could Elijah come to want him too? Maybe. Not yet, but when the boy had managed to put some distance between himself and that man, maybe. If Sean could be very patient, and he could. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Could he really feel those things for someone new? He thought just maybe he could.


	13. Chapter 13

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000gka8/)

It looked like he wasn't going to be taking any pictures after all. When Sean had suggested he might like to play around with the digital, it hadn't occurred to Elijah to ask if there were already pictures in the camera. Sean had obviously forgotten he'd used it or he wouldn't have made the offer. Elijah sighed and put the camera down. He'd just have to find something else to do until Sean came back.

Now that his CD player would work again, courtesy of Sean's rechargeable batteries, he could listen to music for a while. His Walkman was in his bag in the bathroom. Elijah stood up to go get it, then glanced guiltily at Sean's computer, still sitting on the table in front of the loveseat. Before he listened to music or did anything else, he needed to write to Hannah. He wished now he'd thought to ask Sean if he could go with him to the store so he could use the pay phone again. Instead, all he'd thought about were batteries and his fucking cigarettes. Elijah's fingers drummed on the table top. He could sure use one of those fucking cigarettes right now.

As much as he wanted to put it off again, Elijah knew he needed to finish his letter. Even if he didn't have any real news, at least he could let Hannah know he was okay, that he was safe. He wished Sean had internet access. Hannah still complained about his handwriting and a typed message would be much easier for her to read. Luckily he had the use of the laptop so he could...

Elijah looked at the camera again. Even though Sean hadn't uploaded the pictures to the laptop, there was no reason why _he_ couldn't. But should he? These were Sean's private photos and he had no right to look at them without permission, but still... Sean had told him he could use the camera and he couldn't use it the way it was now. It wouldn't be prying, not really, just freeing up the memory so he could take some pictures of his own. There might not even be anything personal in the photos. They were probably just shots of the woods or the lake, nature stuff. Surely Sean wouldn't mind if he looked at those.

First things first. Elijah went and sat down on the loveseat, bringing the camera with him, but setting it aside. He booted up the laptop, opened Sean's word-processing program and began.  


> **I didn't get much further after I called you, Sis. I've been keeping off the highways, trying to stay under the radar, but my head was pounding and I made a wrong turn somewhere. I wound up in the woods, then I hit something and ran the car off the road. I'm going to get it fixed, so don't tell Dom, okay? I went looking for a phone and found this cabin. No one was home, but the door was unlocked so I went inside.**

  
Unlike last night, this morning Elijah's words flowed effortlessly. His fingers flew over the keys and before long, he'd filled almost five pages. Reading over his letter, Elijah was surprised to find that most of what he'd written was about Sean. Telling Hannah how he'd been so exhausted that he'd fallen asleep at the table and how Sean had come home to find him there. Explaining that Sean hadn't been angry that he'd come in uninvited, and that when he'd gotten dizzy (a forgivable lie since telling Hannah he'd passed out would only upset her), how Sean had made him lie down and had taken care of him until he was feeling better. And if she could believe it, Sean had gotten the car towed to a garage and was letting him stay at the cabin until it was fixed.  


> **The quiet drove me fucking crazy the first day, but I'm getting used to it. I kind of like it now, especially when I'm sitting out on the porch talking with Sean. I've never met anyone as kind and understanding as he is. You'd really like him, Hannah. He's so different from Pedar.**

  
Elijah had purposely left out the fact that Sean was gay, afraid Hannah might think Sean was letting him stay at the cabin in the hope that something might happen between them. He was sure she'd worry about him getting involved with someone else so soon after Pedar, but Elijah knew Sean didn't think of him that way, so it was easier just to let his sister believe that Sean was straight.

Sean said he had a printer, but hadn't shown him where it was, so Elijah just saved his letter and exited the program. Printing it out would have to wait until Sean got back from the store. Elijah glanced at the camera lying on the seat beside him. Unable to resist any longer, he took out the memory card. Inserting it into the laptop's card reader, he chose the copy option, but as the photos were uploaded into _My Pictures_, they began to display on the computer in a slide show. As Elijah watched them move across the screen, he saw the photos weren't of the woods or the lake.

As much as Elijah wanted to turn away, his eyes were drawn to the images. All of the photos were of the same man. He had dark wavy hair, just beginning to grey at the temples, and dark blue eyes. This had to be Daniel. Even in the photos where he was sitting, Elijah could tell he'd been a tall man. He would have been at least a foot taller than Sean when he was standing. Sean had said his lover was only forty-eight when he died, but the man in these pictures looked much older, closer to sixty than fifty.

Daniel was alone in the pictures, so Elijah assumed Sean had taken them. All of them were casual shots, but Daniel had obviously known his picture was being taken because in most of the photos he'd struck flamboyant poses. Pedar would have called him an old queen, but the pictures made Elijah smile. Even in the tamer shots, Daniel's personality still came through. There was a great shot of him dressed in a suit, but he'd taken off his shoes and was sitting with his feet straight out in front of him, his toes pointed like a ballet dancer.

He wore a black watchcap in one picture, pulled down so low on his head that there wasn't even one strand of hair showing. Elijah thought it was strange wearing a hat indoors, but maybe Sean had taken the photo just as they were going outside.

In all the photos, even a casual shot of him sitting at the breakfast table, there was something...aristocratic about Daniel. He looked the way Elijah imagined English lords had looked hundreds of years ago.

Just when Elijah thought all the photos had loaded, the last one came on screen, but it wasn't a picture of Daniel. It was Sean. Unlike Daniel, Sean didn't look as if he knew he was being photographed because he'd been caught in an unmistakably real moment. His eyes looked cloudy, and he'd done nothing to disguise the pained expression he was wearing. Elijah found it difficult to look at the picture for more than a few seconds. Obviously Daniel had taken the photo, but what had happened to make Sean feel so bad, and why had Daniel wanted a photo of Sean looking that way?

Elijah's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sean's jeep pulling into the yard. Fuck!

Not wanting Sean to know he'd been looking at the photos, Elijah quickly pulled the memory card from the reader. In his haste to return it to the camera he fumbled, so desperate to get the card back into the slot before Sean came in that he dropped it on the floor and had to get down on his hands and knees to look for it. He found it under the table and managed to get it back into the camera just as he heard Sean shut off the ignition.

Elijah took the camera with him as he went to the front door, setting it back on the kitchen table before going outside to meet Sean.

******

 

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000h6g4/)

In the silence after cutting the engine, Sean sat listening to the distant call of a towhee in the wood. Steeling himself. The pack of cigarettes in his pocket was a heavy weight, and he still wasn't sure he'd be able to hold his tongue, or that he should. Elijah was on the porch and seemed pleased to see him. It was his smokes he was likely anticipating, but it made Sean smile all the same. He allowed himself a tiny fantasy of the boy bouncing into his arms for a welcome back hug. But on second glance, there seemed to be a nervousness in Elijah's stance. Sean opened the Jeep's door and closed the window, then took up the box of stuff he'd bought and went to face it.

Elijah came down the steps to meet him, and stopped. Sean set down the box on the ground to take the cigarettes from his pocket and hand them over. Only he found himself holding on to the pack, like they were having a tug of war. The boy looked at him curiously. He let go. Elijah thanked him.

It was right there wanting out, the sermon he'd never laid on Daniel, though he'd rehearsed it a thousand times. These new feelings he was having for Elijah were there too, with an anxious dread that doing or saying the wrong thing could put up new hurdles between them. He only stood there watching as Elijah opened his pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

With an expression of extreme distaste, Elijah blew out a smoky breath. "This tastes like shit." He laughed, but there was nothing natural or easy about it, and the joke he then tried to make fell flat. "No wonder they say these things can kill you."

It was the best opening Sean was going to get, but he let it slide, just picked up his box and headed for the steps to go inside. It shamed him, painfully, caring more for what Elijah thought of him than for what was best for the boy's welfare. He abruptly stopped himself and turned back. "It was cigarettes that killed my Daniel."

Elijah's look of shock, even guilt, stopped Sean from taking it any further. He dropped his eyes, and went on inside. He didn't want Elijah to feel bad for him, only wanted the boy to think about it. He emptied the box in the kitchen and put everything away, wishing he could have just said nothing. But that wasn't really true. It wasn't likely to make any difference, but how could he know if he didn't try?

The sun was high in the late morning sky, the porch shaded under its awning. Elijah had come back up to lean on the rail and was just staring into space. The intense look on his face made Sean pause. Maybe he really was thinking about it. The cigarette he'd lit dangled limp from his fingers, seemingly forgotten. A part of Sean longed to apologize, to somehow erase that frown. But he sucked it up and left Elijah to his ruminations. There were chores he needed to see to, the garden to water, and something else he'd meant to do when he got home, something he'd known he was sure to forget.

******

 

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000s7z3/)

_It was cigarettes that killed my Daniel._

At first Elijah was too shocked to speak, could only stand there and watch Sean pick up the box he'd brought from the store and take it inside. Sean only stayed in the cabin for a few minutes, just long enough, Elijah assumed, to put away whatever he'd bought. Then he was back on the porch. Elijah had found his voice by then, but not knowing what to say, said nothing. He felt too embarrassed to even face Sean, so even though he knew Sean was there, Elijah just stood at the rail and looked out towards the lake, as if he hadn't heard Sean come back outside. By the time Elijah got his courage up enough to turn around, Sean had left the porch and was walking off toward the back of the cabin. Probably going to check on his garden.

Elijah took another puff of the cigarette he still held, but now it tasted even worse than before. He lifted his hand, ready to toss it out into the yard, then he remembered and brought it inside. The ashtray was still on the kitchen counter and Elijah stubbed his cigarette out in it. That's when he saw them, lined up on the counter. White bread. Grape jelly. Pop-Tarts! Sean had to have bought them especially for him, and in return, Elijah had reminded him of how his lover had died. Way to go, Lij.

_You're a screw-up, Elijah, and you always will be._

Elijah could see Warren's face in his mind's eye, could picture his smug, satisfied smile as he spoke the words. It was true, he _had_ screwed up. He'd said something incredibly stupid, but he hadn't done it on purpose and he certainly hadn't meant to hurt Sean. Staying and apologizing was the right thing to do, but Elijah didn't think he could do it, at least not yet. Maybe after he'd had the chance to think, to find the right words, if the right words even existed.

Knowing that Sean might come back at any minute, and still not ready to face him, Elijah decided to go down to the lake. Being there seemed to help Sean think. Maybe it would do the same for him. It would be a rough walk with bare feet, so Elijah slipped on his sneakers, not bothering to lace them up. As he headed for the door, he glanced at the camera, still on the table where he'd left it. On impulse, he picked it up and took it with him.

******

 

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000pbpt/)

It came to Sean as he was walking around to put the empty fuel cans back in the Jeep after filling the generator tank. The trumpets were in bloom and it made him think of Elijah, because he'd had the boy on his mind that first day when he brought down a box of Fatwood, purchased at a steal in the off season, and stashed it in the cellar. He stopped in his tracks, setting down the cans, and pulled back the cellar door. He took the steps down into the dark and found the chain to light the bare bulb hanging from a support beam in the low ceiling. The box was there where he'd put it, and tucked into one side was the lost mail, a good stack.

Out in the sunshine again, he looked through it. Junk and more junk, with a very few exceptions. There was a statement from the bank, a letter from his agent, and one from his Mom. He knew without looking what was in Jeff's, a polite and cautious probing into how he was doing, a carefully worded reminder that he'd already missed two deadlines, an anxious-under-the-surface plea to know if there was going to be a book four, or not. Sean still didn't know the answer to the latter. He wasn't writing, had only been pretending before Elijah came, because it had lost all meaning and just felt pointless. To his surprise, he felt the itch in his fingers, felt the desire to be writing, regardless whether he had anything worthwhile to work on. He hadn't felt even that much in a long time.

With more interest than he could usually muster, he opened Mom's letter and stood there reading it. She also wanted to know how he was doing, but couched it in more specific terms. Was he eating right, getting enough sleep, watching out for bears? Had he remembered to contact the agency managing the apartment about their slipshod reporting practices? Yes, yes, yes, and no. He didn't want to even think about the apartment. She told him all the latest gossip and he read it through without skipping over anything, even found himself smiling here and there. Though she wouldn't say so or ask for reassurance, she was worried about him. And she deserved more than his usual half page of pretense in response.

Elijah still hadn't returned. Sean had seen him leave, headed down the path to the lake, and let him go. It was safe enough. If he went no farther than the dock, he couldn't get lost. Sean went inside and sat down at his desk while the impulse was on him, to answer his Mom's letter. He held back the general bent of his feelings, but otherwise told her the details surrounding his unexpected house guest, and told her he was enjoying the company. It was a momentous thing, and would reassure her. Not only was he keeping his head above water, he was dog-paddling for all he was worth, and even stretching into a forward stroke or two.

On a roll, he wrote to Aunt Til as well, a letter that was long overdue. He didn't mention Elijah, but said in plain words that he was coming to grips with the gaping hole Daniel had left in him, that it was getting better, and that he hoped it was getting better for her also.

Sean folded and stuffed both letters into envelopes, sealed and addressed and stamped them. The junk, he slid into the recycle bag, mostly unlooked at. He didn't open Jeff's letter, but left it propped in a prominent place, to remind him. With responsibilities seen to, for the most part, Sean turned his full attention to Elijah, who was probably down at the dock, maybe hoping Sean wouldn't come looking for him. Maybe hoping he would.

******

 

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000qpww/)

Elijah had gone to the lake to think, but how much thinking could you do when the sun was cooking your brain? It had to be at least 100 degrees outside. He shielded his eyes from the sun's intensity, annoyed with himself for forgetting to bring his sunglasses with him. His feet were really sweating in his sneaks so he toed them off and sat down on the dock, dangling his legs over the side and wishing he was taller so he could dunk his feet without actually jumping in. He raised his face in search of a cool breeze coming off the water, but the lake was as still as death, pretty fitting since death was what had brought him here. He put the camera down and took out the cigarettes and his lighter.

_"No wonder they say these things can kill you."_

What had possessed him to say such a stupid thing? Not only stupid, but hurtful, but it wasn't really his fault, was it? Sean had said Daniel died from cancer, but not what kind, so he couldn't have known. And yet he felt he should have. On that first morning when he'd taken out his cloves at the table, the expression on Sean's face should have told him. It hadn't just been annoyance. Plenty of people hated smoking, but there had been more to it than that. It had been something personal. Elijah realized it now, and probably would have realized it then if he hadn't been too caught up in his own troubles to pay attention to someone else's. Sean hadn't told him he couldn't smoke, only that he had to do it outside, but that same look had come into Sean's eyes each time he lit up. What Elijah had taken for disapproval had been pain.

Daniel had been a smoker. Elijah should have figured that out from the ashtray. Sean didn't smoke, and people who didn't smoke didn't keep ashtrays in their houses. The ashtray had been for Daniel's use, and every cigarette ash Elijah tipped into it had been a painful reminder of the thing that had taken Sean's lover from him. He must have been so relieved when Elijah had finished all the cigarettes he had, and so sorry he'd asked if Elijah wanted anything from the store because his answer had been to buy him another pack.

Sean had worn that same expression when Elijah asked for the cigarettes. Elijah had noticed it, even if he hadn't said anything. Sean's lover had died from lung cancer, and Elijah had not only smoked around him, but asked him to buy cigarettes. Sure, he hadn't known about Daniel then, but he'd known something was wrong and he should have asked Sean about it. Was Warren right? Was he too fucking selfish to care about anyone but himself?

Why hadn't Sean just refused to buy the cigarettes? He could have told Elijah he didn't want him to smoke, but instead he'd gone ahead and bought them. Elijah looked at the pack. Menthol, extra long filter. No wonder they tasted like shit. Sean was the kind of man who'd let a person make their own choices, even if they weren't the right ones, but he'd tried to help in his own way, buying a brand he thought would do the least damage. Had he done the same thing for Daniel?

Elijah put his smokes and lighter down and picked up the camera again, turning it on so he could view the photos on the LCD display. They didn't look any different than they had when he'd first looked at them on the laptop, but now he had a better understanding of what he was seeing. Daniel, so thin and frail, looking twenty years older than he was. He'd been sick when Sean took the pictures, maybe already dying. The watchcap picture made sense now. Daniel had probably had chemo like his Mom, and was wearing the hat to cover his bald head.

Sick as he must have been, Daniel had kept posing, but Elijah was sure he'd been doing it for Sean, putting on a brave front for the man he loved. How could Elijah have missed all that the first time he'd seen them? At last the photo of Sean came on screen. The pain in Sean's face had been hard to look at before, but knowing what he did, seeing it now made Elijah's chest hurt. Shutting off the camera, he lay it down and picked up his cigarettes again. He put one between his lips and flicked open his lighter, but couldn't bring himself to touch the flame to the tip.

******

 

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/elijah_aus/pic/0000retz/)

Peanut butter and grape jelly on white bread. Sean wrapped Elijah's sandwich, then made one just like it for himself. To make up for it, he cleaned a few carrots and a couple of apples, and put it all in his day pack with bottled water, cold from the fridge. With the pack on his back, he went out to the tool shed for a pair of clippers and then headed down the path toward the lake, tidying up the overgrowth as he went.

It was another hot, sun drenched day, in the nineties even on the shaded path, but Sean was feeling so close to good it made no matter. Elijah was sitting on the end of the dock when he got there, dangling his legs over the side and gazing down into the water. Sean stopped at the edge of the planks with a little noise, not wanting to startle the boy. "Hey."

Elijah looked around. "Hey."

There was nothing overt from the boy to say he wanted to be alone. Sean stepped forward. "You hungry? I fixed us some lunch." He laid down the clippers and unslung the pack from his back.

Elijah was looking at him, with a very open and heartfelt expression on his face. "I'm sorry...about the cigarettes...and not understanding. You must think I'm a real shit."

Relieved and regretful both, Sean sat down on the end of the dock next to him. "Of course I don't, Elijah. You couldn't understand when I didn't say."

The boy had a cigarette perched between his fingers, but it wasn't lit. He picked up the pack and spent a little while jamming it back in. When he glanced up again, he wore a guilty kind of look. "I accidentally looked at the pictures on your camera. I didn't mean to, but the card was full. I was just going to dump it onto the computer so I could take some pictures. But I couldn't help seeing them."

Sean's heartbeat skipped a little. He could remember taking those pictures, but when he'd come back to the cabin, he'd put the camera away and managed to forget about them. Elijah held out the camera to him, saying he hadn't deleted them, but Sean wasn't sure he wanted to look.

"I'm sorry, Sean."

Sean took the camera, and found a gentle smile for the boy. "It's all right. I told you to help yourself. They're pictures of Daniel, I remember, last time we were here." Elijah only nodded a little. Sean bravely turned on the camera and made himself look at them, shot after shot of Daniel looking thin and unwell, but hamming it up, more so than was usual for him, pretending. At the last, Sean came to a picture of himself, his face a mask of raw emotion. It took his breath and filled him with sadness. He hadn't wanted Daniel to see that.

"It must have been so hard on you, knowing what was coming."

Sean knew perfectly well Elijah had been in the same place with his mother, when he was barely more than a kid. It was an anguish they'd both known, a connection shared. Sean looked into the boy's eyes and knew it was understood. He'd mourned Daniel's loss with all of his soul, for longer than Daniel would have wanted him to. It would be all right now, to start looking ahead. He deleted the pictures, and handed the camera back to Elijah. "All set for you. Clean slate."

Elijah smiled a little, tentatively, then raised the camera and pointed it at him. Sean made a goofy face and Elijah took the picture.


	14. Chapter 14

Elijah previewed the photo he'd just taken. Sean's silly face made him smile. He held out the camera so Sean could see it, too, but Sean had his head down and was digging through his pack.

"What about lunch?" Sean asked. "Do you think you can eat something now?"

Five minutes ago Elijah would have said no way, but now that he'd apologized to Sean he felt better. With the tightness in his chest loosening and most of the queasiness gone, he realized he was actually hungry. "Sure," he answered, putting down the camera.

Sean handed him a sandwich and a bottle of water. "I'm sorry it's peanut butter and jelly again," he apologized. "I don't fuss over lunch. PB&amp;J is quick and easy, and it's what I eat most every day."

"I don't mind," Elijah said truthfully, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite. He tried his best to sound surprised when he added, "You bought white bread and grape jelly? Cool." He took another bite, washing it down with a mouthful of water. "You didn't have to go to all that trouble for me, Sean, but thanks."

Sean seemed pleased, and took a bite of his own sandwich. "It was no trouble. I know you aren't crazy about my cooking--"

"That's not true," Elijah protested a little too quickly, but the look Sean gave him told Elijah he knew very well that it _was_ true.

"It's all right," Sean said with an easy smile. "You haven't hurt my feelings. Your stomach hasn't dealt very well with what I've made for you so far, so I thought you might have a better chance of keeping something down if I gave you the kinds of things you're used to."

Elijah looked down at his lap. "I've put you out so much already without your having to buy special food for me."

"Buying a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly hardly constitutes a special menu, Elijah."

"What about the Pop-Tarts?" Elijah blurted out.

"You saw those, did you?"

Elijah felt his face flush. "They were on the counter with the other stuff..."

Sean frowned, looking disappointed. "Looks like my surprise wasn't a surprise after all."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Sean said, his frown gone. "And you haven't put me out. To be honest, I'm enjoying the white bread and grape jelly myself."

Elijah smiled at that. "I'm converting you," he teased, taking a large bite out of his sandwich.

"Before you get too carried away," Sean said, his tone suddenly serious, "this lunch is going to cost you."

Elijah stopped in mid-chew, his smile gone. "I told you I have money. I'll pay for everything you bought for me."

Sean shook his head. "That's not the kind of payment I had in mind." He dipped his hand into his pack again, bringing out two carrots with their skins peeled off. Holding them out to Elijah he said, "You have to pay for the white bread by eating something healthy."

Elijah nodded and managed another smile. Feeling at ease again, he took one of the carrots out of Sean's hand and bit off the tip. "You sound like my mother. She wouldn't ever let Hannah and me have dessert until we'd eaten all of our vegetables."

"She sounds like a very wise woman."

"I know now she was doing it for our own good, but then it seemed like she was just trying to torture us."

"You had a sweet tooth," Sean surmised.

"Oh yeah, big time," Elijah answered. "I still do, especially for chocolate." A sudden flash of memory had him giggling.

Sean raised his eyebrows. "Want to let me in on the joke?" he asked.

"I was just remembering something that happened the last time I went out with my friends Dom and Billy. We'd gone clubbing and I got pretty drunk. Billy said we should walk back to their apartment so I could get some air and try to sober up. We passed a convenience store on the way, and according to Dom, I went in, picked up a couple of gay glossies and some candy bars and yelled loud enough for everyone in the store to hear, 'I need porn and chocolate!' I don't remember doing it, but Dom swears I did."

Elijah giggled again, expecting Sean to join in, but Sean didn't look amused. Instead he looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, which made Elijah wish he'd kept that particular memory to himself. Fuck. Was there no limit to how many stupid things he could say in one day? They sat there eating their sandwiches and carrots until Elijah finally broke the silence. "Growing up on a farm, I guess you always ate healthy. Your Mom must have cared a lot about that kind of stuff."

Sean seemed more at ease now that they were back on the subject of food. "Very much so," he replied, "but probably no more than any other mother. It's what mothers do, worry about their children's health, even when they're not children anymore. I left home almost twenty years ago, and Mom still treats me like a kid sometimes, still worries that I'm not taking care of myself. The first thing she asked in her last letter was, 'Are you eating right?' My Dad worries, too, but doesn't like to show it, so he lets Mom do the asking. My brother Mack's living at home again. Can you imagine how much fussing they do over _him_?"

Elijah could imagine the fussing. What he couldn't imagine was anyone minding it. "It sounds wonderful," he said.

******

The wistfulness in Elijah's voice provoked a twinge of homesickness in Sean. He hadn't seen his Dad or Mack in too long. He slowly nodded. "It's good to have someone who cares." Since the boy seemed in agreement, Sean ventured to pull the sunhat out from under the canoe and put it on his head.

Elijah ducked a little, but left it on. "I wrote to Hannah."

Sean slowly smiled. "I wrote to my mom."

The boy said, "I'll need to use your printer."

Sean said, "No problem." They finished their lunch, listening to the birds singing in the trees, the faint rustle of a breeze through the leaves. The lake rippled luringly. Sean took a last bite of his apple, then tossed the core into the woods for the critters. "What say we take the canoe out?"

Elijah looked at him uncertainly, crunching into his own apple.

"I'll paddle. You can just come along for the ride." The boy said he'd help, but he didn't know how. Sean said he'd show him, but he didn't need to worry about it. They'd just take it easy. "We'll find you some nice sights to photograph."

They packed up from lunch and Elijah picked up the camera. Sean took out the binoculars he'd stuck in the pack and hung them around his neck, then turned the canoe and eased it into the water. He loosed one of the puffy, bright orange vests tied to a cross brace, and handed it to Elijah, who made a face. Though confident enough of his swimming, Sean put the other vest on himself. "Me too." You just never knew what could happen. "There, you look great, like you're about to do something fun."

Elijah laughed. "You look like a pumpkin." He appeared somewhat abashed after it was out of his mouth.

Sean just smiled. "Pumpkins float, so that's appropriate." He gave a tug to one of the boy's straps and made sure the fit was good, then held the canoe steady so he could climb into the bow. "Keep to the center." He did just fine, with a grace and balance that could only be natural, and glanced back with a smile once he was settled on the seat. Sean carefully climbed in and took the stern. Dipping a paddle into the water, he guided the canoe away from the dock. Smooth and silent.

"Wow." That was all Elijah said, staring ahead with his hands resting on the gunwales, alert and focused like he was breathing it in.

"Never canoed before?"

The boy shook his head. "It's like we're floating through a painting."

Sean understood that. Elijah had the full, unobstructed, panoramic view, but Sean had a pretty nice one himself, of Elijah experiencing it for the first time. "It's being right down on the water. And the quiet. You don't get this feeling in a motorboat." He paddled them out past the point, and on around the curve of the shore, pointing out the more interesting features of the landscape while Elijah took pictures.

As thirsty as the land was, it could still captivate and inspire with its wildness. It had been quite a while since Sean had been out on the lake with a mind to the world around. Even with the shoreline broken by bare flats, it still had its charm. Elijah seemed to see it. Sean hoped that wasn't only his imagination.

A half hour out, the boy wanted to try paddling, so Sean explained the technique, demonstrating the angle and motion of the blade as it sliced through the water. After some inevitable splashing, he caught on, but soon tired himself out.

"Oh man, this is hard work." He rested the paddle across his knees and glanced back over his shoulder. "Fuck, did I do that?"

Sean was a little damp. He swiped his face on his shirtsleeve, laughing. "No problem. It's a good day to be wet." And there was no need for the boy to labor. Sean told him to just relax and enjoy the ride. They were in no hurry. "Aunt Til's cabin's coming up. It's nice, bigger than ours… mine. And more on the lake."

It came into view as they rounded an outreaching of the bank where a stand of old willows overhung the water. Set back into a small bay and sheltered close on all sides by dense wood, it made a pretty picture. Elijah took a few as they neared. Sean let his paddle trail and momentum took them in.

Approaching from the water, it always had a mysterious, isolated feel about it to him. Gray stone and whitewash gave it a ghostly aire. And now it was overgrown and neglected. Empty. As they slid silently by, Sean could almost picture Daniel sitting on the porch swing, sipping Aunt Til's lemonade. He should have been taking better care of the place this last year. It was the least of what he owed Til.

******

Elijah saw a change in Sean's expression as he looked at the cabin. Not quite sad, but thoughtful, as if he was remembering something. Maybe time he'd spent there?

"Does she come out here often?" Elijah wondered.

Sean shook his head. "She used to. At one time, she spent a good part of the summer here. She's getting older though, so maybe the trip is too hard for her now, but I think it's probably too painful yet. We spent a lot of time with her, so I think it might be hard for her to come back, knowing Daniel won't be here."

"It must be like that at your cabin, too," Elijah offered, and when Sean nodded, he suggested, "Wouldn't it have been better for you to go live somewhere else?"

"Easier," Sean replied, "but not better. I always preferred the cabin to the apartment, even though we only spent weekends here. Daniel seemed happiest when we were away from the city. Once he was gone, staying at the cabin made it feel like he was still near."

"So you won't ever move back?" Elijah asked.

Sean considered it. "Never is a long time, and I don't profess to know what the future holds, but I have no desire to be there now. I have an agency taking care of the apartment's upkeep. Renting it out gives me some extra income, plus I'd prefer someone enjoy living there rather than having it sit empty." Sean paddled a long stroke and moved them past the house on the shore. "The cabin's my home. It's pretty rustic compared to Til's, but it suits me just fine."

It did suit him, Elijah thought. Sean didn't seem liked he'd enjoy living in a fancy apartment, any more than Elijah had. He had never really felt comfortable in Pedar's place. It had always felt more like a museum than a home. "If Daniel's aunt came out here to stay in the summer, I guess you got along with her okay?"

Sean seemed puzzled by the question. "Sure. Why do you ask?"

Elijah bit his lip, wondering if what he was about to say would bring up bad memories. "It's just that you said when you went to England with Daniel, it didn't go very well. I figured that meant his family wasn't happy about your being together."

"You're right about that," Sean said. "They weren't happy, but there were many reasons, not all of them having to do with me personally."

"What do you mean?"

"Daniel's family didn't really believe he was gay. Though he was nearly fifty, I think they never lost hope that it was just some kind of a phase he was going through, and that eventually he'd come to his senses and marry the right girl, the right girl being someone from the proper social circle. But even if they had accepted that wasn't going to happen, I don't think they would have ever accepted me. It was plain they felt he could have done a lot better than me."

Elijah wanted to say it would have been impossible for Daniel to do better than Sean, but said instead, "But Til was different?"

Sean's smile came easy. "As different as night and day. When she met me, she saw immediately what none of the rest of them could, how much I loved Daniel. Once she knew that, she accepted me immediately. Daniel was her favorite, more like a son than a nephew, and she wanted him to be happy. She saw that I made him happy, and that was all that mattered to her."

"Do you still keep in touch with her?"

"I used to, but I haven't contacted her since Daniel died."

"Why not?"

Sean shook his head. "I told myself I needed to give her time to grieve, but I was the one who needed the space."

"Do you think you'll ever be ready to talk to her again?" Elijah wondered.

Sean nodded. "I think I am. It's time. In fact, I just wrote her a letter, telling her I'm okay. It would be cool if you two could meet. You'd like her, Elijah, and I know she'd like you."

"You think so?" Elijah asked.

"Absolutely."

"I'll bet she'd think you were crazy for taking in a stranger."

"I don't think so. Til has a big heart."

"Just like you," Elijah told him.

Sean looked pleased, but Elijah could see that the compliment had also embarrassed him. "If you're not tired of the camera yet," he said in an obvious attempt to change the subject, "I think that would make a great picture."

Elijah had been so involved in their conversation that he'd almost forgotten he was holding the camera. He looked in the direction Sean was pointing and saw the tree. It was dead, not sporting even a single leaf, but it stood tall and strong, its naked branches reaching high, as if they were trying to touch the rich blue of the cloudless sky. Sean was right. It _would_ make a great picture. He set up the shot and snapped the photo as Sean paddled them on around the shoreline.

The canoe ride had gone much smoother once Sean had taken back command of the navigation. The way he handled the small craft seemed effortless to Elijah, the paddle barely making a ripple as it broke the water's surface. There was no wasted motion, and now that Elijah had stopped helping, no more splashing. Elijah strained his neck so he could watch Til's cabin. It became smaller and smaller, then finally faded into the distance. "It feels funny having you talk to my back," he said. "I wish I could turn around."

"You can," Sean told him, "but you have to do it slowly and keep your weight balanced or you'll tip us over."

Following the instructions and moving carefully, Elijah managed to turn around so he was facing Sean. Once he was settled back on his seat, he picked up the camera again and resumed taking pictures. Sean looked so right in this setting, so at home here, that Elijah made a conscious effort to keep him in every shot, doing his best not to be too obvious about it.

When they reached his side of the lake, Sean ran the canoe up onto the bank a little way from the dock, explaining it would be easier for them to disembark that way. Once they were both out, Sean pulled the canoe out of the water.

"Let me help you get it back to the dock," Elijah offered, but Sean had already tipped the canoe up onto his shoulders and was walking the short distance to the dock, carrying it by himself without any noticeable effort. When they got to the dock, Elijah watched in wonder as Sean just as effortlessly tipped the canoe upside down onto it.

Undoing his vest and taking it off, Elijah handed it to Sean and said, "Here's your pumpkin back."

Sean grinned as he accepted it. He took off his own vest and stored them both, along with the sunhat, under the canoe. "Did you get some nice shots?" he asked.

"I think so. I must have filled at least half of the memory card, but I won't know how many of them are keepers until I get them out of the camera."

"I'm afraid I don't have any paper for printing photos," Sean said, "but you can still load them onto the laptop and use the photo program. I guess you'll want to print out your letter to your sister first though."

"Yeah, I really should," Elijah admitted.

"It's early yet," Sean said. "While you do that, I can think about what to make for dinner."

"Sean?"

"Yes?"

"Today was really nice. Thanks."

"It was my pleasure, Elijah. Maybe we can do it again."

"Could we?" Elijah asked, as they walked toward the path. "I'd really like that."

The sun hadn't seemed so intense while they were out on the lake, but now, as they walked back to the cabin, Elijah began to feel the heat again. His tee-shirt felt plastered to his body. He pulled the cotton away from his skin, and used his shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Sean had to be feeling it, too. He hadn't been able to see it while they were in the canoe, but now that he was walking behind him, Elijah could see Sean's shirt was sweat-stained down the back and under the arms.

As soon as they stepped through the front door, Sean filled two glasses with cold water from the fridge, handed one to Elijah and downed most of the other. Elijah used his glass first to cool his forehead, then took one huge swallow. "I never knew water could taste so good," he told Sean.

Sean nodded, drained his own glass and let out a long sigh of satisfaction. "I'll get the printer for you."

It was a small portable model, the kind people used for travel, but it would do fine for what he needed. Elijah quickly hooked it up, and soon it was spitting out the pages of his letter. Sean got an envelope from his desk and handed it to him. "I've got stamps," he said, "so the next time I go into town I can mail it for you."

Elijah nodded and thanked him. He addressed the envelope by hand, folded and stuffed his letter inside and licked the flap to seal it. Then he took the memory card out of the camera and set to work. He didn't use My Pictures this time, but created a desktop folder he named _SEAN_ and dumped them into that.

******

Sean sat down and looked at the newspaper he'd left on the table. He wasn't sure of the impulse that had prompted him to buy it, when he hadn't read a paper in over a year. He glanced over the secondary headlines; war in the Middle East, the economy in a slump, some corrupt politician slinging mud at some other corrupt politician. It didn't look like much had changed in the world. The big, front page news seemed to be the local county fair, with a huge color photo of a prize-winning Black Angus bull towering over a grinning kid with a blue ribbon.

Elijah finished with the computer and came to sit at the table and shuffle through the rest of the paper. He looked over the comics, chuckling here and there, then pulled out the entertainment section. More photos of livestock and tractor pulling.

"The Coos County Fair is on," Sean explained, smiling. "Not your idea of entertainment, I don't imagine."

Elijah shrugged, studying the pictures. "I don't know. I've never been to a fair."

Sean could hardly believe that. "Never? But you've surely been to a carnival?"

Elijah stared at the paper and shook his head. "If it wasn't _spiritually uplifting_, Warren didn't allow it, and to keep the peace, Mom went along with him. By the time I was old enough to go by myself, I was too busy making money so I could leave home, and then when I was with Pedar..."

The boy didn't need to finish the thought. Without Elijah having to say it, Sean knew Pedar would have considered attending a carnival beneath him. Well, damn. Sean thought about it harder than should have been necessary. The crowds and the noise, he could do without. But Elijah might enjoy it, and he would enjoy that. "Would you like to go?"

Elijah looked up at him. "Now?"

"Sure." It would be most of an hour's drive. They'd get there around dinnertime. "We can eat fair food and get sick on the rides."

Elijah smiled and it was settled.

The boy promptly took over the bathroom to get cleaned up. They were both in need of a shower, but Sean particularly, after paddling them around the lake in the heat all afternoon. Once scrubbed and brushed and clean-shaven at last, he stared through the steamy air at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, and wished himself good luck. He'd been avoiding that kind of public scene for a long time now, but he felt up for it. He could show Elijah a good time, and have a good time for himself. It would be like a date, in his mind. He shook his head at the fool in the mirror, but it really felt all right. He put on his least disreputable jeans, and a clean shirt with the tails hanging out. Trying to look less straight and stodgy? Maybe.

He laughed at himself and went out to join Elijah, who was ready to go, with his shoes tied and the camera hung by its strap around his neck. He was wearing a Beach Boys concert tee shirt. Sean had to smile, picturing the boy dancing around the kitchen to _Good Vibrations_. Elijah smiled back at him, and asked with a giggle if he was over dressed.

Laughing, Sean told him, "You look just right to me." He got some extra cash from his desk, and a stamp for Elijah's letter. They could drop all their mail into a box somewhere along the way. The kid in Sean was downright excited. He hadn't known that kid still existed; it had been so long since he'd felt like one. He and Daniel had taken in the local county fair plenty of times, but Daniel had never been much interested in the carnival side of it. Sean hadn't been on a good roller coaster since he was a teenager. And he had a feeling Elijah would be game. The boy was all smiles. But then he himself was grinning from ear to ear. It was probably contagious.

They piled into the Jeep and headed out along the winding, overgrown lane, with both windows open to let a breeze through. It all felt right and good to Sean.

******

Five minutes into the trip, Elijah was checking out the jeep's dashboard. "Where's the CD player?"

Sean shook his head. "Don't have one."

"Cassette player?" Elijah asked hopefully.

"No, sorry, but there _is_ a radio."

Which was better than nothing. "Is it okay if I put it on?"

"Help yourself, but reception's not very good out here, so I don't think you're going to find much to choose from."

There was nothing to choose from as far as Elijah was concerned. He searched from one end of the dial to the other, but couldn't pick up anything but talk radio and two music stations, one religious, the other classical.

"Told you so," Sean said.

"It doesn't matter," Elijah replied, turning the radio off. "We can talk instead." He leaned back in his seat and got comfortable. "Tell me about the fair."


	15. Chapter 15

The lowering sun threw long shadows over the dry, trampled grass as they trekked from the back of the parking field to the fairground through a sea of cars, trucks, and campers. The place was hopping, and it made Sean's nerves twitch. Elijah had admitted to a little nervousness himself. The sense of seclusion at the cabin had a way of getting under your skin. Leaving it wasn't easy for Sean, even if only to do the shopping. And Sean had a feeling Elijah was going to be looking over his shoulder the whole time they were out. They weren't halfway to the gate when he froze for a moment, staring at a man walking ahead who was tall and lean and dressed to kill. It didn't matter that the chance of running into Pedar had to be astronomical, it was clearly on the boy's mind.

Sean slid an arm across Elijah's shoulders. "There's no way he'll be here, you know." The boy gave him a serious look, and nodded. It was no joking matter, but Sean tried anyway. "If by some bizarre twist of fate we do run into him, Elijah, I promise you I'll give him what for." He raised a fist over his head and made his shadow tall and fierce, and Elijah giggled. That was better. Elijah raised his arms with fingers splayed and made a monster out of his shadow. Sean made a bigger one and the two battled, rippling over the ground ahead as they walked, bumping and tangling. Pure silliness. In spite of nerves, it felt to Sean like he'd been holding his breath for two years and finally let it out.

Waiting in line at the gate, the sounds and smells of the fair wafted out to them: a deep rumble of tractor engines over the unceasing chatter of voices and machines, a distant rise and fall of canned carnival music, the smell of dust and diesel smoke underlain with a pervasive odor of fried food. Not the most pleasant of greetings, but Elijah was craning his neck to see inside, less with apprehension than anticipation. And Sean was feeling that too.

Elijah wanted to pay their admission fee, but Sean beat him to it. "You can buy me dinner if you want to." Elijah agreed with a smile, and stuffed his wallet back into his rear jeans pocket. Sean led the way and they joined the flow of the crowd down the lane past the main grandstand. It sounded like they were just finishing up the tractor pulls. He nudged Elijah out of traffic to stop and look at the billing board, to see what was on the schedule. "Damn, we missed the swine judging."

Elijah snickered, not fooled by Sean's serious tone. "Look, they have helicopter rides. That would be cool."

It would, Sean thought. "But it's a daytime activity. Not that we can't come back tomorrow, if we want to." A bold suggestion, since they hadn't gotten through the evening yet.

Elijah smiled and nodded, still looking over the schedule. "They have live bands."

Sean nodded. "Here at the grandstand, and there's a free stage at the other end of the park for local talent. But they won't be playing until later. We'll check back."

"Okay." Elijah stepped back, lifting the camera, and took a picture. A picture of what exactly, Sean wasn't sure, but he wasn't quick enough to step out of the way. The boy grinned at him. "What do we do first?"

Sean hadn't actually been to this fair in the evening. "Let's just wander and see where we end up." There were food stands everywhere, selling everything from corn dogs and cotton candy to gyros and funnel cakes. Sean was hungry enough to find some of it appealing. Sensibly though, it would be best to hold off on stuffing themselves if they meant to do the rides.

They got snow cones to take off the edge, and walked on as twilight settled and the fair burst with color and noise. The lights and sounds of the midway beckoned, and that was where they ended up. Elijah took pictures as they moseyed among the game booths, while Sean fended off the hawkers trying to lure them in. They stood for a while and watched a big guy in a muscle shirt darting balloons for his girl, who stood by with an armload of teddy bears in rainbow colors.

Elijah gave Sean a mischievous glance. "Can you do that?"

Sean smiled. "You want a teddy bear?"

The boy quirked a smile in return. "Maybe. Can you?"

Truthfully, probably not. "It's been a while." But Sean figured it was worth a try. Elijah stepped up and laid down a dollar bill, an obvious challenge. Sean handed his snow cone to the boy and got his buck's worth of darts. He considered the heft of them, and the direction of the breeze buffeting the balloons, and just trusted to luck. Three out of three. He was having a good day for sure. The carnie asked what color bear he wanted. He thought of asking if they had any bear colored ones, but turned to Elijah instead, with an eyebrow raised.

The boy laughed and said, "Pink."

Sean dared the carnie with a glance to so much as smirk. He got his pink teddy bear and handed it to Elijah, who promptly offered it to a little girl who had none. She took it with a shy smile as her mother dragged her away. Sean couldn't resist clapping a hand to the boy's shoulder in a touch that was more tender and lingering than he'd meant. Elijah just grinned and gave him back his snow cone.

They walked on, Sean following Elijah, who was lured by the hard rock music blasting from the Himalaya. They leaned on the fence around the ride to watch, and Elijah took pictures, fiddling with the settings on the camera between shots, trying to get just the right look. Sean admired the results over his shoulder. He really was good at this. They had to lean close to each other to talk over the noise, and Sean found himself inhaling the scent of Elijah's hair, taking in the sight of his handsome profile against the flashing lights, his lips the color of cherry ice.

"It doesn't look that scary."

Sean had to forcibly re-direct his attention to the camera display. The boy was taking close-ups of the shrieking riders, and catching some great shots. Sean watched the ride, the cars rocketing around a circular, undulating track. "Want to try it?"

Elijah gamely said, "Sure."

There was a line, but they were packing them on and turning them out, so the wait wasn't too long. Sean ushered Elijah ahead of him as they stepped onto the platform at last and picked an empty car. "You first." Elijah didn't ask why, just took the inside. Sean settled in after and pulled down the lap bar, checking it twice to make sure it was latched. "You've really never done this?"

Elijah gave him a tight little smile. "Never."

Since the boy seemed concerned, Sean reassured him. "It's safe, if you follow the rules."

"Rules?"

"Secure your valuables, then sit back and hang on."

Sean suggested Elijah tuck the camera into a pocket. He tried but couldn't make it fit, so Sean stuffed it into one of his. A guy came around, locking down the lap bars, and the car lurched into motion. Elijah took in a breath and gripped the bar with both hands. They made one circuit and another, picking up speed. Sean let himself slide to the outside end of the bench. Elijah fought it, to no avail. Sean couldn't be sorry when the boy finally slid into him with a yelp and was effectively plastered to his side for the duration of the ride. They screamed past the blur of the fair going on all around, with the lights flashing blue and purple, the air rushing, and the music pounding. They reached top speed and Sean's stomach dropped and fluttered. Elijah shrieked in obvious delight, and Sean laughed and buried his face in the boy's hair.

It was over too soon and they were stumbling down the steps off the back of the platform, a little shaky in the knees and leaning on each other. They no doubt looked thoroughly gay. Sean was sure they got a few looks. But Elijah didn't seem to mind.

"Fuck, that _was_ fun! Can we do it again?"

Sean felt a little light headed but surely had a big grin on his face. "Sure. We can do anything you want, Elijah. Let's look at the other rides, then we'll come back."

There wasn't a proper roller coaster, though Sean hadn't expected one. You had to go to an amusement park to ride the big coasters. But there were plenty of good rides, and Elijah wanted to try them all, even the ones that swung upside down. Sean wouldn't have minded skipping those, but wouldn't have cheated Elijah out of a moment of the evening's fun. To see that glorious gap-toothed grin and the laughter in those amazing eyes was worth anything. They were whipped and flung and probably bruised in places, but they were having a great time. They had one last go at the Himalaya, then mutually decided there was such a thing as too much fun and looked for a place to sit and catch their breath.

Elijah limped a little, rubbing his hip, but he was still smiling. Sean had done his best to minimize the bumping and crushing, putting the boy on the inside when it made a difference and making sure he was braced and secure, but a little battering was inevitable. He found them an unoccupied picnic table near the barbecue tent and they settled there to watch the other fair-goers for a while. That was Sean's intent, but he ended up watching Elijah instead, smiling like a besotted lover, he was sure. Elijah finally called him on it, looking amused. "What?"

"Your hair's standing on end." It was.

Elijah ran his hands through it, but it was still standing on end. "You look kind of rumpled yourself."

Sean supposed he must, and didn't care. He pulled the camera from his pocket and took a picture of the boy, then Elijah took it and snapped one of him, both of them laughing and horsing around. "I'm glad we came," Sean said.

Elijah smiled and said, "Me too," then giggled when Sean's stomach abruptly let out a growl. "Do I get to buy dinner now?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea to me. What would you like?"

The choices seemed endless, but Elijah didn't hesitate. "A hotdog with everything and cheese fries, and something cold to drink, for starters. What are you having?"

Sean couldn't decide. They went and got Elijah's hotdog, and a huge basket of cheese fries to share, while he thought about it and finally decided on a shredded pork sandwich with a corndog on the side, utter extravagance. They sat to have their food, then got their drinks refilled and wandered, away from the crowded midway.

There was no way they could take in the whole fair in an evening, but they walked through one of the buildings, a gallery of work from local artists. Nature and the big woods were a prominent theme and there were some beautiful paintings on display. There were also a lot of photographs, and they stopped and really looked at those.

Elijah cocked his head at frame after frame. "I wish I could do that."

Sean stepped up close beside him and looked at the one he was studying, a striking photograph of sunbeams slanting through a shaded stand of mossy oaks. "You can, Elijah. You can do anything you set your mind to. I bet you got some great shots out on the lake today."

Elijah shrugged a little. "Nothing like these."

"You should let someone else be the judge of that. Artists tend to be overly self-critical. I hope you're going to show them to me."

Elijah gave him a grateful smile. "Sure."

They walked the length of the building and out the other end, finding themselves on a less busy lane, cut off from the major noise of the fair. Craft booths lined the gravel walkway, but most seemed to be closing up for the night. There was a distant sound of music playing, something lively and contemporary, as opposed to the honky-tonk that generally prevailed at these things. Sean saw Elijah prick up his ears. "That must be the free stage," he said. "Let's go have a look."

The night was balmy and starry skied, and Sean was filled with the simple pleasure of walking beside Elijah, seeing the glow of excitement on his face as the music drew them nearer.

"What a great sound!" The boy listened intently for long seconds. "They've got a sax, and a really good drummer."

The stage was at a broad intersection, with a stand of covered bleachers opposite and open ground between, where a crowd of young people seethed to the music that blared, loud but not unbearably so, from speakers on poles all around the square. It was a good tune they were playing, bright and catchy but not common; rock but with a jazzy undertone.

Elijah stood on tiptoes at the edge of the crowd, trying to get a better look at the band. Sean laid a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and nodded toward the deserted bleachers. The boy took his meaning and followed after him, up into a shadowed corner where they could sit and watch.

They were at the far end of the fairground there, and behind them an unbroken vista of countryside shone in the moonlight. Heat lightning crackled silently in the distance, illuminating the hills. It felt a little surreal to Sean, the seat under them vibrating with the music, Elijah's eyes gleaming as he watched the stage. The band ended the number they were playing, then began again with something less boisterous. The sax player took center stage and a near hush fell over the crowd.

Elijah took a few pictures, then lowered the camera and just listened, as if mesmerized. Even Sean with his less than remarkable ear for music could appreciate that this was something special. Or he was just so caught up in Elijah, everything was hitting his senses with a particularly heady vibrancy. There was definitely that. The music ended, and the crowd cheered. "They're good," Sean said, leaning close to be heard.

"They're brilliant," Elijah murmured. "It's all brilliant."

Sean could feel his heart thumping. "I'm so glad you're having a good time, Elijah."

Elijah turned a dreamy smile on him. "This has been the best day," he said, then abruptly leaned forward and pressed a warm, soft kiss to Sean's lips.

In that moment, under those circumstances, nothing on earth could have stopped Sean from kissing the boy back. For that second and a half his mind had no say in the matter. But Elijah suddenly started and pulled away. It hadn't been what Sean's heart wanted it to be. He quickly backed off. "Elijah, I'm sorry."

The boy looked mortified. "No, Sean, _I'm_ sorry!"

It wasn't bearable, seeing him embarrassed and uncomfortable, after all the good. Sean helplessly shook his head. "We're a sorry pair." He found a smile, and hoped it was a convincing one. "Must be nearing the full moon." It had just been the overall excitement of the evening, the general mood of uninhibited pleasure. "It's all right, really."

Elijah dropped his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. "I need to find the johns."

Sean suppressed a sigh and nodded. "Just down that way, I think, not too far. I'll save your seat." The boy glanced a small smile at him, and went.

The band was taking a break. Sean sat and watched the scene for a while, re-playing that sweet touch of Elijah's lips to his, over and over, then finally got himself up and made his way down to the stage.

******

Elijah's head was spinning. It was like being back on the Himalaya, but without the euphoria he'd felt then. There was none of the dizzying pleasure he'd experienced as he was spun around wildly, the velocity of the ride sending him crashing into Sean sitting beside him. All he felt now was confusion. He moved through the crowd on unsteady legs, mumbling "I'm sorry" and "Excuse me" when he bumped into people as he made his way. Telling Sean he needed to find the johns had been a lie, just an excuse to put some distance between himself and the stage, but the two big glasses of Pepsi he'd drunk with his hot dog and cheese fries were beginning to take their toll, so Elijah quickened his pace.

_I kissed Sean._

As he walked along, the scene on the bleachers kept playing inside Elijah's head like a video on an endless loop. Leaning forward to touch his lips to Sean's. Looking into Sean's eyes as their lips met. Elijah could still see those eyes. They were olive-green, but had flecks of deep, warm brown. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

_I kissed Sean_, Elijah repeated to himself, as if he needed to remind himself of what he'd done.

It wasn't like he'd planned it. He had just been feeling happy, been caught up in the music. And it had just happened.

Elijah shook his head in disgust. He had left Pedar's bed less than a week ago. Pedar, a man he'd lived with for three years. Even the thought of being close to another man again had made Elijah shudder, and suddenly he was kissing Sean? And after all the fuss he'd made on the morning he'd woken up and found Sean beside him in bed. Sean really would think he was a slut now, except that...Sean had kissed him back. At least Elijah thought he had.

First he was sure of it, but it had happened so fast that now he was beginning to think maybe he had just imagined it. That was most likely the case because he knew Sean didn't think of him that way. And even if Sean _had_ kissed him back, it would have been because he'd been as caught up as Elijah, just into the music and the moment and had reacted without thinking. It didn't mean anything. And since Sean had immediately pulled back, that proved he regretted what he'd done. If he'd done anything at all. Everything was so jumbled up in Elijah's mind that he wasn't sure what was real and what he'd imagined. All he knew for sure was that he needed to get away so he could sort it all out.

Rather than trying to make their existence less noticeable, whoever was running the event had decided the portable toilets should reflect the atmosphere of the fair. There were of six of them standing in a row, all in bold, garish colors, and lit by a string of colored lights so bright they hurt his eyes. He pulled open the door of the first one, and finding it unoccupied, stepped inside.

After peeing, what Elijah needed more than anything was cigarette. He'd barely given it a thought all day, but now couldn't get the pack out of his pocket fast enough. As he stepped out of the port-a-potty he already had a cigarette between his lips and his lighter in his hand. Leaning against the outside wall of the structure, he exposed the lighter's flame, ready to touch it to the cigarette tip.

_It was cigarettes that killed my Daniel._

The voice was as real to Elijah as if Sean had been standing next to him speaking the words. Elijah immediately pictured those photos of Daniel, looking emaciated and so obviously ill. Then suddenly Sean's face replaced Daniel's and Elijah could see that heartbreaking photo, see the depth of Sean's pain written across his features.

"Fuck," he muttered. There was no way he could go back to Sean smelling of tobacco. When trying to slide the cigarette back into the pack landed it in the dirt, he just left it there. Pocketing his lighter and what was left of the pack, Elijah started back toward the bandstand, walking with his head down, deep in thought. He was so busy thinking about what he was going to say to Sean that he walked right past him without realizing it.

"Hey," Sean said, catching his arm.

Elijah looked up in surprise. "Hey. What's up?"

"You were gone for a while and I was concerned," Sean replied, looking almost embarrassed by the admission. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Elijah smiled. "I'm fine. Just needed to pee and to--" He was going to add _have a cigarette_, but bit the words off just in time. "Catch my breath. Having fun sure can wear you out."

Sean smiled back at him, seemingly relieved. "Despite most people's beliefs to the contrary, there _can_ be too much of a good thing. You had a busy day, Elijah, going out in the canoe this morning, then all the walking around and the rides tonight. Maybe we should call it a night."

"I guess," Elijah agreed. "Unless there's something else you want to see."

Sean shook his head. "No, I've had my fill for tonight. And since we'll be taking our helicopter ride in the morning, I think we should save something to do for the rest of the day."

"The copter ride," Elijah remembered. "That will be cool."

Sean nodded. "I think so, too." He began walking, but when he saw Elijah wasn't following, stopped and came back to where Elijah stood. "Is something wrong?"

"Look, Sean," Elijah began, rubbing his palms on his thighs, "about before..."

Sean held up a hand. "Please, Elijah, you don't have to say anything. It was just one of those things. An unguarded moment, nothing more."

Elijah was unconvinced, but fell into step beside Sean. After they had walked for a few minutes he remarked, "This didn't seem like such a long walk when we got here."

Sean stopped, turned and studied Elijah as if sizing him up. "You're a little old for it," he said, "but if you're too tired to walk, I can give you a piggyback ride."

Elijah elbowed Sean in the ribs. "Asshole," he laughed, then immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, horrified by what had just come out of it.

Sean only smiled and slid an arm across Elijah's shoulders. "Come on, we'll take it slow. You are still recuperating, after all."

"Thanks."

"You could take a nap," Sean suggested when they finally reached the jeep. "We'll be on the road for at least an hour."

Even though Elijah said he didn't want to nap, he dozed on and off during the drive back, though not so much dozed as drifted. Sean spoke occasionally, but Elijah couldn't make out the words, so he just lay back against the passenger seat with his eyes closed, nodding whenever Sean's voice sounded like it might require a response. Elijah didn't become fully aware again until he felt the touch on his shoulder and heard Sean telling him they'd arrived. "Did I fall asleep?" he asked.

"I think you may have dozed off."

"Shit." Elijah's shoulders sagged. "Some company I am. I'm sorry, Sean."

"Don't be. I'm just pleased you had a good time."

"I did," Elijah said as they climbed the porch steps.

"I enjoyed it, too. Can't tell you how long since I've been to a fair, or gone on so many rides."

Elijah looked sheepish. "Guess I overdid the rides, huh?"

"Not really," Sean said, "considering it was your first fair. But I hope you don't plan on riding them all again tomorrow."

Elijah shook his head. "Nope. I'll be satisfied with the helicopter ride." He paused, as if considering. "But we don't have to do that either. We don't even have to go to the fair tomorrow if you don't want to. Today was wonderful, but I don't need to go back again."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Who says we'd be going back for you?" he asked. "I want to take the helicopter ride myself. Guess I never got over that childhood dream of being a pilot."

"I'm glad," Elijah admitted with a sly smile, "because I'd really like to go."

"Then we will." Once they were inside Sean asked, "So what did you like the best? The food? The rides?"

"The live music," Elijah answered immediately. "I love discovering new bands, and that last one we heard was great. I hope some record company signs them so I can buy their CD."

"You won't have to wait that long," Sean told him. He reached into his pocket, brought out a CD case and handed it to Elijah.

When he saw the band's name on the cover art, Elijah looked dumbfounded. "W-where?" he stammered. "How?"

Sean smiled, obviously pleased. "After you left, I went down to the stage and the band was selling these. Since they're local talent, I assume they burned the discs themselves, but with the recording and editing software available today, I'll bet the sound's pretty good."

"This is awesome," Elijah said. He dug his wallet out of his back pocket. "How much do I owe you?"

"You don't have to pay for it," Sean explained. "It's a gift."

"You didn't have to do that," Elijah began, then frowned. "I didn't buy anything for you."

"I didn't expect you to, Elijah. I wanted you to have a souvenir from your first county fair, and when I saw how much you enjoyed the band, a CD seemed the perfect thing."

"It is perfect. Thanks, Sean. And thanks for taking me to the fair. I really did have a great time."

"So did I." Sean glanced at the laptop. "I'm going to turn in, but if you want to stay up and upload the photos you took tonight, feel free."

"No way," Elijah said through a huge yawn. "All I want to do is sleep." He bent over to unlace his sneakers and when he stood up, told Sean, "I bet even your loveseat couldn't keep me awake tonight."

"I wouldn't count on that." Sean grimaced. "Remember, I slept on it after you got here, so I know how uncomfortable it can be."

"If it's too uncomfortable I'll sleep on the floor," Elijah said with conviction, "but I'm not kicking you out of your bed again."

"You know," Sean began hesitantly, "we _could_ share the bed. There's no reason you should be uncomfortable when the bed is big enough for both of us." Elijah's surprise must have shown on his face because Sean quickly added, "And you won't have to worry about my staying on my own side this time."

"I wasn't worried about that," Elijah assured him, "but I feel like I'm still putting you out." He bit his lip. "You really don't mind?"

Sean shook his head. "If I did I wouldn't have offered."

"Okay, but only if you're sure."

Sean chuckled. "Are you always this hard to convince?"

"Not always," Elijah admitted. "I just want you to be sure."

"I am."

"Then thanks."

"You don't have to keep thanking me, Elijah. It's just a bed."

"But it isn't," Elijah protested. "It's _your_ bed. Yours and Daniel's."

There was a stirring of emotion in Sean's eyes. "Daniel wouldn't mind," he said after a moment. "If he were here, I know he'd do the same thing."

Elijah didn't totally believe him, but it was good to hear Sean say it. "All right," he gave in. Before he could stop himself he added another "Thanks." When Sean rolled his eyes at him, Elijah giggled. "Sorry."

"Then it's settled."

Sean went into the bathroom and Elijah began to undress. He took off his sneakers and socks, then his jeans, but left on his tee-shirt and boxers. When Sean came back out he was wearing a tee-shirt and sweatpants and carrying an extra pillow. Even with the sun down it was still uncomfortably warm, and Elijah looked at him questioningly. "Won't you be too hot sleeping in those?" he asked.

"No," Sean replied as he pulled back the sheet. "I'm leaving the fan on." He stretched out on his back, close to the edge of the bed, hugging the pillow to his chest.

As far as Elijah was concerned, there was no way the fan would cool the cabin enough to sleep comfortably in sweats, but Sean didn't seem to feel the heat as much as he did. He lay down on the opposite side of the bed and turned on his side, back to Sean, scooting as close to the edge as he could without falling off. If he'd been sleeping alone, Elijah would have stripped down completely, but he was sure Sean wouldn't appreciate his sleeping naked, so he settled for stopping at his boxers. He didn't think he'd be awake long enough for the heat to bother him anyway. Elijah was so tired he expected to be asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

And he was.

> **When he feels Pedar's hands on him he tenses immediately, his body instinctively on the alert. In the beginning, Pedar reaching for him first thing in the morning had filled him with excitement and anticipation. Pedar had been a passionate lover, concerned with his pleasure, and a patient teacher, showing him how he could give pleasure in return. But now those hands deal out pain more often than they give pleasure, so he keeps his eyes closed. If Pedar believes he's still asleep, maybe he'll be left alone, but when the hands continue touching him, he knows that's not going to happen.**
> 
> Pedar's hands feel larger as they move over him, and unusually gentle. They stroke his body, exploring from head to toe, lingering between his thighs. Fingertips tease his nipples until they respond, and without warning, lips replace fingers, tracing kisses from his chest down to his belly. It's all he can do to keep his body from rising off the bed to meet them, but he manages to lie still and keep his eyes closed.
> 
> When those lips softly brush his then pull away, he doesn't want to pretend sleep anymore. He opens his eyes, wanting to see his lover's face, needing to connect with the man he fell in love with, the man he thought was gone forever.
> 
> The eyes that look back at him are filled with love and tenderness.
> 
> Olive-green eyes, with flecks of deep, warm brown.


	16. Chapter 16

Sean woke as he'd fallen asleep, stretched out on his back at the edge of the bed with the pillow clutched in his arms, and Elijah safely curled up on his own side. His little plan had worked all too well. He quietly sighed. Dawn was breaking. He should get himself up and around. Instead he rolled to his side and watched Elijah sleep. There were some thirty inches of no-man's land between them, the early morning light soft and hazy, but he could see the boy was comfortable and at ease. It had been on Elijah's mind that the bed was his and Daniel's, and that it might pain Sean to lie there with someone else. It touched him in a serious way that it mattered to the boy.

The fan wafted a warm breeze, the air already growing heavy with the day's heat. A bead of sweat meandered its way along Elijah's jaw, and he shifted and stretched, blinking. Sean's heart flittered as the boy gave him a dreamy little smile, like he'd wakened with pleasant thoughts, then slowly closed his eyes again and went back to slumbering.

Sean tore his gaze from the sight with reluctance and roused himself to get up. Quietly padding across the floor to the bathroom, he switched the fan to high. The generator had been sucking up extra fuel since Elijah came, but he didn't care. He treated himself to a steamy hot shower, and took the time to give himself some ease while he was at it. He brought to his mind's eye a vision of Elijah's blue eyes dancing with excitement, felt the touch of Elijah's softly willing lips on his. It came to far more than ease. It was an almost joyous release, more than he'd felt in longer than he could remember. He was still weak in the knees half an hour later, leaning on the porch rail with a cup of coffee.

It was a beautiful morning, though really no different than yesterday's, hot and dry and blue skied. That it felt brighter and more promising, Sean had to attribute to the rise in his spirits. Regardless what it meant or didn't mean, Elijah had kissed him. For a few hours, the boy had forgotten his woes and lived in the moment, and Sean had glimpsed real affection for him in those laughing eyes. It was going to be a good day.

*****

Elijah woke to sunshine and found Sean's side of the bed empty. He'd seen Sean earlier in the morning when he'd woken at first light and Sean had been lying there, just looking at him. Or maybe it had only been a dream.

He yawned and stretched, surprised by how much better he felt. A little sore from yesterday, but otherwise okay. It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for you. He'd actually slept through the night, something he hadn't done in so long he'd forgotten what it felt like. No nightmares had invaded his sleep, and he'd woken up feeling calm instead of afraid. He wanted to believe it was because of Sean. There was comfort in having someone near, even if you weren't touching.

His messenger bag was on the floor by the bed and Elijah picked it up, fishing out his lens case and putting in his contacts. If he was going to be sleeping in the bed, there was no reason he shouldn't leave his lens case and eye drops on the nightstand. Handier to take out his contacts and get right into bed. If Sean had a problem with it, he'd keep them in the bag and out of sight.

Lying back again, he listened for signs of life inside the cabin, but all he could hear was the ticking of the antique clock on the fireplace mantle. Convinced Sean must be outside, he went into the bathroom to pee, still wearing only his boxers and tee-shirt. He splashed water on his face and ran his fingers through his unruly hair, pleased to see that the person looking back at him from the mirror was becoming more recognizable every day.

It had been another hot, humid night. Elijah wanted a shower, but was more curious to see where Sean had got to. As he was slipping on the jeans he'd worn yesterday so he could go outside to find him, Elijah heard Sean's voice. He looked toward the door, expecting to see Sean, then realized the voice was coming in through the open window. Sean was tending to his garden, and humming a melody Elijah found familiar. Elijah couldn't place the tune, but found himself humming along. For a brief moment he conjured up a picture of Sean standing in the middle of his garden, wearing a tuxedo and serenading his plants. Where the fuck had _that_ come from? Whatever had put it into his head, the image made Elijah smile, something he hadn't done much since he left Pedar. Something he'd been doing a lot more since he met Sean.

Elijah's stomach growled, another surprise. After eating a hot dog with all the trimmings and sharing all those cheese fries with Sean last night -- not exactly sharing since he'd ended up eating most of them himself -- he expected to feel stuffed, but he was actually hungry. Maybe all the fresh country air was improving his appetite. Normally he would have started his day with just coffee and a cigarette, but this morning that urge for a smoke wasn't so strong and he thought he could do without one. Could be all the fresh country air was helping with that, too. If things kept up this way, maybe by the time the car was fixed and he was ready to leave he'd have kicked the habit completely. Elijah knew Sean would approve, and he was surprised to discover just how much that mattered to him.

Even if he didn't want a cigarette, Elijah did want coffee, and was pleased to see that Sean had made a fresh pot before going outside. He helped himself to a cup, figuring that would hold him until Sean was done in the garden. He wanted them to sit down and have breakfast together, but his resolve to wait faded when his eyes fell on the Pop-Tarts, still sitting on the counter. He'd only glanced at the boxes yesterday, but now picked them up to see what kind Sean had chosen.

There was momentary disappointment when he saw that neither box was chocolate, his favorite flavor, but that quickly disappeared when he saw that although they were fruit flavors, one strawberry, one blueberry, Sean had bought the ones with icing. That was totally unexpected, considering Sean's views on nutrition. Elijah wondered what Sean would insist he eat in exchange for the treat. Yesterday had been carrot sticks. Iced Pop-Tarts would have to cost him more than the white bread and grape jelly had. Probably celery sticks or even some of that squash from his garden. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. Then again, maybe the Pop-Tarts wouldn't cost him anything. Considering the corndog and cheese fries he had eaten at the fair last night, Sean might not be as health-conscious as he appeared to be. Or maybe Elijah _had_ converted him. First white bread and grape jelly, and now Pop-Tarts. He grinned as he imagined how much of a bad influence he could be on Sean's eating habits if he really tried.

Elijah knew he should wait to eat until Sean came back in, but he hadn't had Pop-Tarts in months. Like so many things Elijah enjoyed, Pedar didn't approve of the toaster pastries, found them too common. So whenever he knew Pedar would be away, Elijah would buy them for himself and enjoy them while he could, making sure he finished them or got rid of what was left in the box before Pedar came home. Seeing them there on the counter, the temptation was just too great. Elijah chose a box at random, opened it, and slipped one of the thin pastries into the toaster.

While he waited for it to come up, Elijah got Sean's camera. He'd taken a lot of pictures yesterday, and hoped to take more today, so he'd need to make room for them. He uploaded the photos from the SD card to the laptop's hard drive, adding them to those already in his **SEAN** folder. Wiping the card clean, he slipped it back into the camera and checked the batteries. Almost drained. He'd forgotten to recharge them before going to bed, something he'd make sure to do tonight. Luckily, Sean had an extra set of AA's in the kitchen drawer. He replaced them and closed the battery compartment, just as his Pop-Tart popped.

The first bite of the warm, icing-covered strawberry pocket had Elijah sighing with pleasure. He took another swallow of coffee, then left the cup on the counter and went outside, taking his Pop-Tart with him.

*****

It was from Casablanca, that song stuck in his head, that one line. _A kiss is still a kiss._ Sean wandered along the rows of potato plants with the hose, amused at himself. His mind was hardly on his work, but he did notice the beans needed picking. And there were squash, always, regardless the conditions. He stooped to gently thump the one watermelon that was still hanging on, and was completely oblivious to Elijah's nearness until he spoke.

"Can I help?"

Sean glanced back over his shoulder to the boy standing at the edge of the garden looking like he'd come straight from bed, with his hair softly mussed and a rosy glow about him. Sean stood and shut off the hose. "I'm just finishing up." Elijah was nibbling on a Pop-Tart. Sean thought of offering to make him a proper breakfast, but decided that would be pushing. He wasn't feeling too kindly toward food that morning himself after pigging out at the fair the night before. He asked Elijah how he was feeling. "Bruised?"

Elijah shrugged. "A little." Sean was sincerely sorry for that, but Elijah just smiled. "I don't mind. It was fun." Sean set to coiling the hose and Elijah followed him to the well. "Are we going back today?"

Sean gave him a warm, happy smile. "If you still want to."

Elijah smiled back at him. "Yeah. Maybe they'll have an encore of that pig contest, since you were sorry you missed it."

Sean helplessly snickered. "That'd be swell, wouldn't it?" They headed back inside together. "We can walk through the barns and see what's still there. Horses probably, cows, goats, fancy chickens, maybe a few llamas."

"Really?"

"In some parts of the country, they raise llamas like any other farm animal." Scintillating conversation. Sean held the door for Elijah, who popped a last corner of his breakfast into his mouth and went to brush the crumbs off the front of his shirt into the sink.

"I need a shower before we go."

Sean told him to go ahead and went about tidying up while the boy was at it, wiping down the kitchen and making the bed. He picked up Elijah's pillow to plump and buried his face in it for a moment. The bedding smelled of Elijah, the pillows and sheets, and though Sean found it not at all unpleasant, they must also smell like him. Elijah was probably disgusted and just too polite to say. Damn.

Sean stripped the bed and piled the sheets by the bathroom door, pausing to listen to the sound of the shower running. Elijah was talking to himself, or singing maybe. Sean couldn't make out a word, only heard a soft murmur of the boy's voice amid the splash of the water. It was too tempting to stand there imagining Elijah showering. Sean forced himself away, out to the porch to sit and watch the sun rising over the treetops, though it didn't stop him imagining.

*****

Elijah sang as he rushed through his shower. _Good Day Sunshine_ was one of his favorite Beatles tunes and totally fit his mood this morning. He couldn't believe how much he was looking forward to going back to the fair. His heart hadn't really been in it yesterday when he'd gone along with Sean's suggestion that they check it out. He'd agreed to go, partly out of curiosity, partly to please Sean, but he'd ended up having a great time, even if it hadn't started out that way.

How fucking stupid had he been to think Pedar could possibly be there? It wasn't possible, and yet Elijah couldn't help feeling uneasy, jumping at every noise and shadow. Then Sean had made him laugh by making shadow monsters, and that tightness in his chest had dissolved. It was as if Sean had read his mind, knew how scared he was feeling, and just what to do to make him feel better. How could this man he'd known for only a few short days understand him better than Pedar ever had?

The funny thing was, Sean had seemed more nervous once they reached the Midway, and Elijah was pretty sure he knew why. The other people on line hadn't bothered to hide their disapproving looks when they saw he and Sean were going on the rides together. Elijah had noticed, and it was obvious Sean had, too. The crowd had pegged them as a couple of queers, but Elijah couldn't have cared less. Being spun around one minute, then going up and down the next had been exhilarating, the sheer freedom of it making him feel like a kid again. And each time the change in direction had sent him careening into Sean, he'd squealed like a girl, not caring who heard him.

As much as Elijah had enjoyed the rides, he'd enjoyed the quiet times just as much. Even just talking with Sean over a plate of cheese fries had felt special. The live bands had been a perfect end to the night. He'd been so into the music that he'd allowed his emotions to take over. All during the drive home he was sure his kissing Sean had ruined everything, but Sean hadn't been upset. He'd been incredibly understanding. If anything, he had seemed more concerned about Elijah's feelings than his own. Elijah was afraid what happened might make Sean change his mind about the fair, but it seemed like he really did want to go back. He'd been as excited as Elijah about the helicopter ride, and maybe afterward they could check out some of the farm animals Sean had mentioned.

As he rinsed the shampoo from his hair, Elijah wondered if what Sean had said was true, that farmers raised llamas like regular farm animals. He was getting better at reading Sean, but still couldn't tell for sure when he was joking. Maybe when he told him about the llamas, Sean had been what Dom called taking the piss. That expression always made Elijah laugh, and since both Dom and Daniel were British, he wondered if Daniel had ever used it.

Thinking of Sean's lover made Elijah remember the photos of Daniel he'd found in the camera. He had trouble imagining the two men together. From what he'd learned of their backgrounds, Elijah thought Sean and Daniel must have been an odd couple, not that most people wouldn't have said the same thing about him and Pedar. But Sean had loved Daniel, there was no doubt about that. Elijah could see it on his face, could hear it in his voice when he spoke about the man he had spent ten years with. But Sean had spent the last year alone, cut off from everyone...until Elijah had barged uninvited into his life.

It had to be strange for Sean, sharing his bed again. Both he and Elijah had been on the bed at the same time before, but neither time had been planned. This time, they had lain down together. Staying close to the edge, hugging that pillow, it was obvious how uneasy Sean had been about the arrangement. All they'd done was sleep, but Elijah was sure that having someone lying so near to him, someone who wasn't Daniel, had to have stirred up memories for Sean. Yet he'd made the offer, had put himself out for Elijah once again. Sean had helped him when no one else would have bothered, had opened his home to Elijah when anyone else would have just sent him on his way. How could he ever repay Sean's kindness? Saying thank you wasn't enough. Even if he said it a hundred times, it would never be enough.

Dressed in clean tee-shirt and jeans, Elijah felt refreshed, even though he knew he wouldn't stay that way for long. It was going to be another unbearably hot day, he could feel it already. When he opened the bathroom door to step out, he almost tripped over the clothes that were piled just outside the door. Not clothes he saw after a closer look. Bedding. The sheets and pillow cases from Sean's bed. Between his fever and the heat, Elijah had spent a lot of time sweating on those sheets so they had to stink of him, a smell Sean couldn't have found very pleasant. It was no wonder he felt the need to change the bed. Elijah picked up the bedding and brought it into the bathroom, stuffing it into the washer. Even though it would most likely mean another bad night, Elijah wondered if he should go back to the loveseat. He knew Sean wouldn't go back on his offer of the bed, so Elijah would have to suggest it himself.

"Done already?" Sean asked. He was standing by the sink, his coffee mug in hand. From the level of the pot, what he was drinking had to be his second cup.

"Yeah," Elijah answered. "I figured you'd want to get on the road early. Do you want to have breakfast before we go?"

"I already did," Sean explained. "Tried one of your Pop-Tarts while you were in the shower. Not bad."

"You should taste the chocolate ones."

Sean frowned. "No one eats chocolate for breakfast."

"_I_ do," Elijah told him, "but I like the fruit ones, too, especially if they have icing."

Sean pursed his lips. "You really _do_ have a sweet tooth, don't you?" When Elijah only smiled he said, "Well I'm glad you're getting your appetite back."

"Me, too."

"I think we should take some water with us," Sean suggested. "Otherwise we'll turn into a couple of puddles ten minutes into our trip."

"I'll get it," Elijah offered. He opened the refrigerator and took out two bottles of water, then went to the bed and emptied the contents of his messenger bag onto the exposed mattress. After storing the bottles inside, he detoured to the coffee table and added Sean's camera to the bag. Swinging the bag's strap over his head and across his chest he asked, "Do you think we'll be going up right away? Cause if we have to wait and want to walk around, how will we know when to come back?"

"You don't have a watch," Sean surmised.

Elijah shook his head. He'd had one, a really nice one, but the gold Rolex was now in the brownstone's master bedroom, along with everything else of value Pedar had ever given him. Elijah had kept the cheap, plastic digital he'd worn before, but hadn't realized until he was on the road that the battery was long dead. "You don't wear a watch?" he asked Sean.

"There isn't much need," Sean told him. "I'm not on a timetable here, and if I need to know the time, I have Daniel's clock, but...."

Elijah watched with interest as Sean went to the dresser in the bedroom area, opened the top drawer and took out a small box. Curious, Elijah went to get a closer look as Sean opened the box. It was an analog watch with a round, black face, silver numbers and a sweep hand. The band wasn't metal, but what looked to Elijah like real leather. It was a very simple style, with no bells and whistles, just for telling time.

"This was my parents' gift to me when I graduated from high school," Sean explained. "They spent more than they should have, but they wanted me to have something nice when I went off to college." He strapped the watch on his wrist and looked at it, as if seeing it for the first time. "I haven't worn it in years."

"It's nice," Elijah commented, "but the battery must be dead by now."

Sean looked amused. "It doesn't need a battery, Elijah," he said with a smile, "just a little elbow grease." Taking the stem between his thumb and forefinger, he began to wind the watch. At Elijah's fascinated look, Sean chuckled. "There _was_ life before the digital age, you know."

"If you say so."

"So are we all set now?" Sean asked as he put the empty box back in the dresser and closed the drawer.

"Yeah," Elijah replied. "Let's go."

Sean's estimate hadn't been far off. They'd been on the road only fifteen minutes before Elijah felt like he'd turned into that puddle Sean had joked about. Wiping his already damp brow with the sleeve of his clean shirt he said, "I don't know how you can stand this heat." He unshouldered his bag and took out the water. Uncapping one of the bottles, he took a long drink, then offered the other to Sean. When Sean took the bottle but didn't open it, Elijah observed, "Guess you're used to this heat cause it sure doesn't seem to bother you much."

"I don't normally mind the heat," Sean admitted, "but it hasn't been this brutal in years. I'm really looking forward to winter this year."

"I like winter best," Elijah said brightly. "When it was really cold, Pedar and I liked to snuggle naked together under a down comforter. Did you and Daniel like to.....?" He let his words trail off as he saw the other man stiffen.

Sean said nothing, only stared straight ahead at the road in front of him. Elijah could see a slight blush creeping up the back of his neck.

Had mentioning Pedar again annoyed Sean, or was it hearing Daniel's name that had upset him? The talk of men naked together had probably embarrassed him, too. Or maybe it had been all three. Fuck.

Elijah closed his eyes and sank back against the passenger seat. An uncomfortable silence followed, making him even sorrier that there were no decent radio stations in the area. Not sure what to say next, Elijah said nothing. He took the camera out of his bag and began fiddling with the settings.

"You're going to take more pictures?" Sean asked, finally turning his head in Elijah's direction.

Elijah was surprised by the question. "Yeah, I thought maybe I could get some aerial shots when we're up in the helicopter." He frowned. "That's still okay, isn't it, my using the camera?"

Sean seemed to be himself again. "Yes, it's fine," he assured Elijah. "I was never much for taking pictures myself. Daniel was the photographer in the family. I'm glad someone else is getting some enjoyment out of it."

Elijah framed Sean's profile in the viewer and snapped the picture. "A camera and a laptop are the first two things I'm going to buy once I'm working again. They'll have to be cheap ones, but they'll do until I can afford something better."

"What kind of work?" Sean asked.

"As a waiter, I guess," Elijah answered. "It's something I'm good at, the tips aren't bad, and people always have to eat, right? And if no one's willing to hire me, I can always go back to busing tables and try to work my way up again."

"You know, Elijah," Sean told him, "you don't have to settle for working in a restaurant just because it's what you did before. I know you'd be great at anything you tried."

Elijah felt his own color rising at the compliment, and busied himself with the camera again so he wouldn't have to meet Sean's eyes. After a moment he said, "You're the only person in the world who thinks so."

"I'm sure that's not true," Sean said kindly.

Elijah sighed, a sudden heaviness in his heart. "My mom was the only person who ever really believed in me, even when I screwed up."

"Not your sister?" Sean questioned.

Elijah shrugged. "Hannah loves me, and I know she'll always be there for me, but the way I've fucked up my life I'm sure she thinks Warren was right when he said I was never going to amount to anything."

"I think it's a little early yet to call your life a failure, Elijah," Sean told him with the slightest ring of disapproval. "You're only twenty-two."

"Right," Elijah said skeptically. "When _you_ were twenty, you were writing a novel. When _I_ was twenty, I was telling customers what the specials were."

"People always have to eat," Sean reminded him with an encouraging smile. "Besides, life isn't a competition. I was always an over-achiever, but everyone doesn't develop at the same pace. Maybe you're just a late bloomer."

"Late bloomer," Elijah repeated, making a face. "Makes me sound like a fucking flower."

"What kind of flower?" Sean teased. "A pansy?"

Elijah giggled, his heart immediately lighter.

The parking field wasn't as crowded as it had been when they'd arrived yesterday, but it was filling up fast with people who apparently had the same idea of getting an early start.

Elijah already had his wallet out when they reached the ticket booth, and paid for their admission before Sean could protest. "You can buy the food today," he said, and when Sean nodded, asked, "So what should we do first?"

"I'd suggest we get our tickets for the helicopter ride before we do anything else," Sean told him. "The pilot's probably only planning to make so many spins around the field, so we want to make sure we have a place in the queue."

Elijah nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we don't want to miss out."

Sean's suggestion had been a good one. There were a dozen people already waiting on line when they reached the open area where the helicopter sat idle. A hand-painted sign was tacked on to a small stool, and beside it there was a table where a woman sat taking money and tearing rainbow-colored tickets from a large, preprinted roll. As she handed out the tickets, she wrote the numbers down on a pad and told the ticket holders what time to be back for their rides. The rides appeared to be scheduled about fifteen minutes apart.

As they moved up the line, Elijah's eyes were constantly drawn back to the sign. Ten dollars for the ride, ten dollars _apiece_. He'd already paid their admission, and it was only fair he pay for the helicopter rides, too, since Sean had paid for everything yesterday, reluctantly allowing him to buy only dinner. But another twenty dollars, on top of the fifteen he'd just put out to get them into the fair.

He hadn't thought much about money since his unscheduled stop at Sean's cabin. Sean had been so generous, providing him with food and shelter that Elijah had barely used any money since he'd been there. There was the $100 deposit for the garage, but that had been a necessity. Even so, since he didn't know how much fixing the car was going to cost, he realized he should probably be careful. It wasn't as if he was throwing money around, acting like what his grandfather always called a drunken sailor, but since he didn't know when he'd find work, it made more sense for him to go easy on his spending. Still, he couldn't very well tell Sean he'd changed his mind about the helicopter ride when it had been the reason they'd come back to the fair today.

It wasn't until Sean leaned in to him and said, "You look so serious, Elijah. Is something wrong?" that Elijah realized he'd been frowning. Sean's expressive green eyes looked into his so deeply that Elijah felt as if they could look right through him. He was almost convinced the other man could read his mind when Sean told him, "If money's a problem, I'll be glad to pay for the copter ride."

Elijah shook his head. "That wouldn't be right."

Sean smiled. "Of course it would. No one's keeping score, Elijah, and I don't mind, really."

Elijah was so close to saying yes, but just as Sean was taking out his wallet, they reached the table and Elijah placed the two ten dollar bills he'd been holding down on it and accepted the tickets from the woman. She told them to come back at two o'clock for their ride. Having it settled made Elijah feel better. If money did become an issue, he'd just do without. Living with Pedar hadn't made him forget what that was like. He'd done without a lot growing up in Warren's house, until he'd begun earning his own money. His major worry was going to be Dom's car. What if he couldn't afford the repairs? Would Sean allow him to leave the car on his property until he could? There had to be somewhere around here where he could get a job to earn enough, though he couldn't imagine where or what kind of job. Or he could move on using public transportation, then send money back. Since Dom had planned to sell it anyway, Elijah could always get what he could for the car and send the money to Dom. It would be harder without his own wheels, but he'd deal with it. What choice did he have?

He was so lost in what-ifs that the hand coming to rest on his shoulder startled Elijah, made him jump, but hearing Sean's soothing voice had the momentary fear vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. "Hey," Sean asked gently, "where'd you go?"

"Sorry," Elijah apologized, "guess I zoned out for a minute."

Sean's concern was immediate. "You look pale, Elijah. You're not feeling nauseous again, are you? Or dizzy?"

Elijah forced a smile. "I'm fine," he assured Sean, then blew out a breath. "We've got a couple of hours before we get to go up. What should we do till then?"

"This morning we talked about checking out the livestock. We could still do that, unless you think it would be boring."

This time Elijah's smile was genuine. "It couldn't be boring with you as a guide."

Sean was visibly pleased. "I'd kind of like to see them myself," he admitted. "When we were kids, part of Mack's and my regular chores was to feed the animals, and it had to be done first thing in the morning before we left for school. At the time I hated it and couldn't wait until I went away to college so I wouldn't have to do it anymore. Now I actually miss it."

Elijah said, "The closest I ever came to seeing farm animals was a petting zoo Mom took us to when we were little, lambs, baby goats, that kind of thing. I don't remember much, but Mom showed me pictures, and she told me I really liked the animals."

"Then I think it's about time you got reacquainted with them. Come on, let's go see who we can find."

*****

It was late morning and lunch was sounding better to Sean than breakfast had, but he steered clear of the fried stuff and Elijah followed his lead. After grabbing something quick and having it as they walked, they mosied out to the livestock pens and walked through the barns. It being the last day of the fair, there wasn't a lot left to see, mostly small animals. They looked at the rabbits in cages, and the fancy roosters, then stopped to pet a little brown dog that was tied in a shady spot. Sean crouched to rub its ears and the dog wagged its tail, glad of the attention.

Elijah stepped back to take pictures, smiling. "You seem like the kind of guy who'd have a dog. A big, happy mutt dog that knocks you over and licks your face."

Sean stood and the dog followed, looking up at them, wanting more scritches. Sean was glad to oblige. "We had dogs when we were kids, Mack and me, and there were always plenty of cats around. It isn't practical in the city though, and Daniel was allergic. Did you have pets?"

"Not really," was all Elijah answered.

Sean took the camera to give Elijah a chance to schmooze the dog. He was a friendly little guy, and Elijah was clearly enjoying the attention as much as he was. Sean just watched them together, until he remembered he had the camera and raised it to catch the moment. Elijah looked up, with his arm around the dog and a wistful look on his face. Sean took the picture, then a few more just to be sure.

They walked on finally, out of the barns and past a group gathered to watch a roping demonstration. There was no shade and the air choked with dust, so they left the livestock behind and took a tree shaded lane lined with display booths and vendors, offering everything from handwriting analysis to satellite dishes to lawn ornaments.

They stopped a while to watch a guy carving bears and eagles out of logs with a chain saw, and again to look at a marvelously detailed miniature of a working farm. It had been built by a local and was displayed at every fair. Daniel had stood there looking at it with Sean more than a couple of times. Elijah seemed sincerely interested, slowly walking around the table to take in every angle. Sean followed along, answering questions.

"Do they really live that close to all those cows and pigs?", no doubt recalling the smell from the barns they'd walked through.

Sean laughed and said, "You get used to it."

"Do they need all those trucks and tractors for a few little fields?"

The model maker obviously liked his machinery. A full complement of miniature diskers, combines, balers, and mowers, for a start, were parked along the fake grass lining the gravel drive, on display. It wasn't far off the mark. "It takes a lot of machinery to work a farm. These fields are just token representations. A mid-sized farm would be around seven hundred acres."

Elijah seemed unable to quite comprehend that. "How big would that be, here?"

Sean guestimated. "I'd say as far as that taffy stand down there, if you put the house and buildings in the center and make it a square. Farms come smaller than that though, and a lot larger."

"Does your Dad's farm look like this?"

"For the most part. This is a livestock farm, predominantly. Ours is more of a mixed bag. We've got dairy cows and chickens, and a few horses, but most of the land's in crops and woodlot. Our buildings are less grand and our machinery isn't so shiny and new. My Dad likes old things, old tools and old ways." Sean smiled. "Not saying my Dad's a hick. He can argue politics and world events with the best. And he uses a computer to run his business."

That wistfulness stole over Elijah's face. "I like your dad. He sounds great."

Sean understood and sympathized. Some things should never be taken for granted, and it was good to be reminded of that.

They reached the model's north forty, where a couple of boys were herding sheep to pasture, with the help of a shaggy black border collie. Elijah's blue eyes went wide and a soft smile curved his lips. "It must have been so much fun growing up like that."

Sean nodded, feeling a pang of homesickness. "It was."

They walked all around the table again, while Elijah took pictures, then they went on out to the local stage where a group of kids were doing a rain dance. It was inspired and spirited, if a bit chaotic. Sean wished them success, for everyone's sake. It was going on three weeks with no rain, after a mostly dry spring and summer. They couldn't afford to have a dry autumn as well. The forest would be just so much tinder, waiting for a lightning strike.

Elijah seemed to be wilting a little in the heat, though he made no complaint. Sean steered them out of the sun and into a building, where there were fans set up to make a breeze. There was a vast display within of home baked pies and cakes and breads, already judged and ribboned. They watched a fudge making demonstration and bought a half pound of dark chocolate, then went on and found a checker tournament in progress under a canopy, where they could sit in the shade and while away some time.

Sean opened the fudge and offered a piece to Elijah, then took out a piece for himself. Immediately, it melted to his fingers and started to droop. There was nothing to do but quickly put it in his mouth, where it finished melting on his tongue, rich and buttery and intensely chocolate. "Mmmm."

Elijah seemed to agree. For long seconds he savored it, carefully sucking the stuff off his fingers, a blissful look on his face, then met Sean's eyes at last with a delighted grin. "Wow!"

Sean thought seriously about going back for another pound. He laughed, "Good fudge," and realized he had chocolate all over his own fingers.

Elijah watched him lick it off, still smiling. "Better than sex, almost."

Just the sound of that word from Elijah's lips sparked a stirring in Sean's nether regions. Damn. He tried to laugh it off but had to look down from the boy's eyes, had to look away and pretend he was interested in the checker game, when in fact all he could see was Elijah smiling at him.

*****

"Is it time for our ride yet, Sean?" Elijah asked. He'd found a last smear of fudge on his thumb and was licking it clean as he spoke.

Sean checked his watch. "About seven minutes before two. Guess we'd better get moving."

They walked at a fast pace, arriving at the appointed hour to find the aircraft sitting idle in the field, the pilot standing beside it. Sean started toward the copter, saying he wanted to check it out. Elijah nodded and headed for the ticket table so the woman who'd sold them their tickets could verify them. After she'd checked the numbers against her pad, she opened the lid of a small metal box, extracted two ten dollar bills and handed them to Elijah. "The copter's had a mechanical," she explained. "There won't be any more rides today."

Despite his disappointment that they wouldn't be going up in the copter, Elijah found he was relieved that he'd gotten his twenty dollars back, then immediately felt guilty for thinking about himself when he knew Sean had really been looking forward to the ride. He went to join Sean, mumbling "Fuck" and kicking at the dirt as he went.

Sean and the pilot were deep in conversation when Elijah reached the helicopter. "So how long have you been flying?" the pilot was asking.

"Oh, I'm not a pilot," Sean told him, but from the look on his face, it was obvious to Elijah that Sean felt flattered to be thought a professional.

"No shit?" the pilot marveled. "With your knowledge of aviation, I'd have bet you were on the job. So you've never done any flying?

Sean shook his head. "No, I've just been in love with flying since I was a kid."

The pilot held out his hand. "Well I'm sorry I couldn't take you up today."

"Maybe next year," Sean said, taking the offered hand and shaking it.

Elijah had been standing by silently, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, but as soon as Sean was done talking to the pilot Elijah told him, "I guess you heard our ride's been canceled."

"Yes. It's too bad. I was really looking forward to it."

"Me, too. So what should we do instead?" Elijah asked as they began walking back toward the Midway.

"We don't have to do anything else," Sean replied. "I wouldn't mind calling it a day."

"We didn't have much for lunch. What about if I take you out to dinner?" Elijah suggested. "Isn't there some restaurant you like going to?"

"I'm not much for going out these days."

"But we have to do something," Elijah insisted. "I got my money back for the helicopter ride, so I still owe you."

Sean stopped walking and turned to face him. "Elijah, when you followed me to the lake and confronted me about not telling you I was gay, do you remember what I said?"

Elijah didn't think he'd ever forget it. "That you didn't tell me so I wouldn't think you'd want me to pay you back with sex."

Sean nodded. "That's right. But that doesn't mean I expect you to pay me back with money either."

"But you've spent so much on me," Elijah protested.

Sean smiled. "I've hardly spent anything at all. If I couldn't afford it, that would be a different story, but since I can, I'm happy to help. I wish you wouldn't worry about it."

"I just don't want you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you. If I can't pay you back then it's no different than it was with Pedar. He paid for everything and I let him—" Elijah broke off, startled when Sean took hold of his shoulders and held them tightly.

"I want you to listen to me, Elijah," Sean said sternly. "Pedar didn't spend money on you out of kindness. His motives were purely self-serving. He used his wealth to control you, to make you dependent on him. You trusted him and he took advantage of you. What Pedar did had nothing to do with generosity."

"You're nothing like Pedar," Elijah said quickly. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry, Sean."

Sean's grip on Elijah's shoulders loosened. "No, _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just hate hearing you talk as if you owe that man something. Pedar had no respect for you, and no one who hurt you the way he did could have ever loved you. What I hate most is that he made you doubt your own worth. You have so much to offer, Elijah, never doubt that."

Elijah was so taken aback he didn't know how to respond. A moment of awkward silence followed, then he finally spoke, his voice soft and uncertain. "I'll try."

Sean seemed satisfied with that. "Good," he said, his face more relaxed. He let go of Elijah's shoulders, then draped his arm around them and they began to walk again. "What if we just go home? You can work on your photos, we can have a nice dinner, then maybe watch some DVD's, if you can find anything in my ancient collection that you'd like to see. What do you think of that idea?"

Elijah smiled. "I think it sounds great." They stopped, changed direction, then headed toward the parking lot and home. It was foolish, Elijah knew, since he wouldn't be staying there indefinitely, but he was beginning to think of the cabin just that way, as home.

*****

Sean laid his keys and what was left of the fudge on the kitchen counter, then opened the fridge to get drinks for them. Elijah went right to the computer and started downloading his photos from the camera. Sean stepped up behind him to watch the transfer, but Elijah quickly splayed his hands in front of the screen.

"Wait, I have to fix them and make a slide show. Then you can see them."

Sean set down the boy's drink with a chuckle and turned away. His eyes fell on his desk, and an urge to write took him. His head was full of snippets of thought he'd like to get down on paper. He rolled back the desktop and turned on the light, and sat down.

For months after Daniel died, he had kept a diary. It was in the lower left drawer, an untidy sheaf of loose-leaf covered in a barely readable scrawl, most of it. He'd shoved it all into the back one dark, desperate night and hadn't looked at it since. He was sure now that he never would. He'd turned a corner and there was light ahead.

Elijah was intent on the computer screen, absently singing along to whatever was playing in his headphones. Sean watched him a moment, softly smiling, then turned back to his desk. He laid out a fresh sheet of paper, took up his pen, and wrote the day and date at the top before beginning, _I've been touched by an angel._


	17. Chapter 17

The following Monday marked the beginning of Elijah's second week at the cabin. He'd been so feverish those first few days that he was still a little foggy about how long he'd actually been with Sean, but knew it had to be at least a week. And every day he spent there made the cabin feel even more like home.

More like home than Pedar's brownstone, with its antique furnishings and priceless artwork ever had. Even though he had lived in the building for three years, during his time there he had always felt like a visitor. More like home than even his father's place. He'd grown up in that house, but after his mother's death, and once Hannah had gone away to school, he'd felt like a stranger there, more like a boarder than a member of the family.

Elijah had begun to wonder if he'd ever feel at home anywhere, feared that there would never be a place where he truly belonged. Then suddenly he had found himself at the cabin. It was as if fate had set him on the path that would lead him to this place that had become his sanctuary. And to the man who, in seven short days, had shown him more kindness than he'd ever known.

In the days following the fair, Elijah found that without any conscious effort on his part, he fell easily into the daily routine of Sean's world. Breakfast together, then outside to check on the garden, watering the plants and picking any vegetables that Sean said were ready. He had never eaten so many greens, but Sean said they were good for him, was even able to tell him what vitamins and minerals each contained, so Elijah never refused to eat them. They had string beans, cucumbers and tomatoes practically every day, and Sean had even talked him into trying the squash, which wasn't as bad as he'd expected.

There was one watermelon left in the garden. Elijah was fascinated with it being in its natural environment, which seemed to amuse Sean. "I've only seen them cut up in the supermarket," Elijah had explained, and Sean had nodded understanding. Checking on it became their first stop when they went out in the garden each morning. The first thing Elijah would do was take a new photo of it, and every day, Sean would ask him if he really thought it had changed in the twenty-four hours that had passed since he'd taken his last one. Elijah's answer was always the same. "You never know," he'd say with a small smile, and Sean would shake his head. Seeing how much it meant to Elijah, Sean promised him that when the melon was perfectly ripe, they'd make a special occasion out of the picking...and the eating. Elijah's mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth into the fresh, ripe watermelon, but as much as he looked forward to that day, he wasn't eager for it to come because he knew how much he'd miss his little trips with Sean every morning to check its progress.

Photography, which before had been no more than an interest of Elijah's, was now becoming a true passion. It was as if Sean's camera had become an extension of his arm. Elijah took it everywhere, and he didn't mind if Sean thought his choice of subjects was strange, whether it was the hose Sean had coiled up and put back in place after he was done using it, or their precious watermelon. Sean had chuckled upon seeing Elijah down on his belly in the dirt so he could get just the right angle for his most recent shot of it, but while before Elijah would have thought Sean was making fun of him, now he just accepted it as good-natured teasing, smiling back at Sean as he got up and brushed the dirt from his shirt and jeans.

Elijah's slide show of the photos he'd taken at the fair had been a great success with Sean, although Sean had seemed embarrassed to see himself included in so many of the shots. Sean had complimented Elijah on all his photographs, those from the fair, and all he'd taken since, and it was never just "That's nice." Sean spoke about composition and lighting, evaluating them the way a professional would. Elijah didn't know if Sean was just being kind, but hearing Sean's words pleased him. He felt a sense of accomplishment, and for once in his life, pride at something he felt he could do well.

Their days were spent enjoying the outdoors. Once they were done in the garden, they'd go walking in the woods together, or down to the lake, talking about everything, and sometimes nothing at all. Elijah's thoughts would often turn to the car, wondering if the garage had gotten the parts to fix it, but he secretly hoped they hadn't, and he purposely didn't mention it to Sean so Sean wouldn't feel the need to find out. It was stupid, he knew, to get so comfortable at the cabin, but he didn't care. When he'd first arrived, he couldn't imagine living out in the country, so cut off from everything and everyone, and now he couldn't bear the thought of leaving. Of course the time would come when he'd _have_ to go, but he pushed that eventuality out of his mind at every opportunity.

Their nights were spent much the same way, easy in each other's company, with Sean's laptop being the center of their activities. Sometimes they listened to music on it. The _Nickel Spokes_ CD Sean had given him was great. Elijah had played it at least a dozen times, already knew many of the songs by heart, and still hadn't grown tired of them. Since the photos he'd taken of their performance at the fair had turned out really well, Elijah said he wished he could send them to the band at the website address they listed on the CD insert. He told Sean that once he got settled and could get online again, he was going to do that. Sean had made no comment, which had Elijah immediately regretting that he'd mentioned it, realizing too late how rude it had been to bring up the cabin's lack of Internet access to his host again.

Elijah had at least 100 CD's in his traveling case, and tried to choose the broadest range of music to share with Sean. Sean was receptive to everything Elijah played, but seemed to like the older stuff best, singers and bands he'd listened to when he was younger. Elijah surprised Sean one night by putting on one of Madonna's early albums, another CD he'd gotten from Hannah. "You said you used to dance around your room pretending you were Madonna," Elijah reminded him, then barely able to keep a straight face, added, "So how about an encore?" Sean had refused, politely yet adamantly, but seeing Elijah's obvious disappointment, he gave in, doing an impression of the Material Girl that had Elijah giggling so uncontrollably that Sean couldn't help but join in.

Some nights the laptop was their movie theater. They sat together on the loveseat, watching DVD's from Sean's collection. Sean always insisted that Elijah pick which movie they would watch, and had been surprised the first night when Elijah chose his mother's favorite, _An Affair To Remember_. As much a surprise as that had been, Sean had looked positively stunned when Elijah had asked if he would make zucchini bread next time, too, along with the popcorn, so they could snack on both while they watched.

Elijah always got involved in whatever movie they were watching, his eyes rarely wandering from the screen, but whenever he did look away, he was surprised to see that Sean had been watching _him_ and not the film. As much as he tried to keep his distance, Elijah would eventually end up leaning back against Sean, and now Sean didn't try to move away. When he first woke up in the cabin, even Sean's casual touch had made him cringe, but now Elijah felt totally comfortable with it. Leaning against Sean, munching popcorn while they watched movies seemed so right, even though it didn't mean anything. It wasn't like a date because Elijah knew Sean didn't think of him in a romantic way. They were just two friends, enjoying a movie together, and their being physical with each other in a casual way seemed perfectly natural.

During that week it finally cooled down some. Sean said he thought there had been at least a ten degree drop in temperature. To Elijah it felt like more, and there was a big difference in the way it made him feel. The oppressive heat had been like a physical weight, and now he felt lighter, even had a little more energy. The change in temperature had caused a change in his attitude, too. His situation didn't seem quite so hopeless to him now, but Elijah thought Sean might have more to do with that than a change in the weather. Sean had such a positive attitude about everything, always saw the good rather than the bad, and after a while it was impossible for his "glass half-full" attitude not to rub off on you, at least a little.

The temperature drop made both the days and the nights more bearable. It was wonderful not to be sweating all the time, especially since he and Sean were still sharing the bed. Every night when they turned in, Elijah imagined Sean's life with Daniel must have been just like this. He could see them spending their evenings enjoying each other's company, then finally lying down together on the big bed. Only _they_ wouldn't have been sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, making sure they didn't touch. Instead, Elijah could picture them falling asleep in each other's arms.

Sean wouldn't hear of it when Elijah offered to go back to the loveseat, and because of that, Elijah was more aware of the bedding, wanting to make sure it stayed as fresh as possible between changes. They normally got up together now, and while Sean made breakfast, Elijah would turn down the sheet and light blanket to air the bed, and if he decided they needed it, change the sheets and put them into the wash. He became more aware of his clothes, too. Elijah had never worried about following fashion. When he had a favorite shirt or pair of jeans, he tended to wear it until the fabric was so worn you could practically see through it. He sometimes wore the same clothes for days at a time, but now he showered and changed his clothes more often to make sure that neither he or his clothes ever smelled bad.

Not smoking helped a lot with that. He'd never tried to quit before, but had expected it to be much harder. Sure he still thought about his cigarettes, but not all the time. Even though he always tucked the pack Sean had bought him into his pocket, sometimes a whole day would go by without his giving it a thought. Then one day, while he was emptying the pockets of the jeans he was putting into the washing machine, instead of transferring the pack into the pocket of the jeans he was wearing, he tossed the cigarettes into the trash bag under the sink. He agonized a little after he'd done it, considered for a moment fishing them out again and holding on to them, just in case, but he left them there, and found at the end of the day he hadn't even been tempted to go back and get them.

The size of the cabin made being in close proximity to each other unavoidable, but Sean and Elijah still managed to spend some time doing things without each other, and for Sean, that time alone was spent writing. Ever since they'd returned from the fair, Sean had spent some part of each evening at his desk. Since he held his fountain pen in his hand, Elijah assumed Sean was writing, although it made no sense to him that anyone would choose to write in longhand when they had a perfectly good laptop. But Sean said he preferred it, so Elijah accepted it as just another aspect of Sean's love of doing things the natural way.

It was hard to tell how much writing Sean was actually doing because sometimes when Elijah glanced in his direction, Sean was just staring off into space, as if he was waiting for inspiration. Elijah wished he could help, but he didn't know how, so he just left Sean alone to work. Since Sean insisted on writing in longhand and didn't want to use the laptop, Elijah used it, working on his photos during the time Sean was writing, always listening to music while he worked. He hadn't bothered with headphones at first, but once he realized that his music was distracting Sean, making it difficult for him to concentrate, Elijah made sure he always listened privately so as not to disturb him.

By late Thursday afternoon, Elijah had exhausted his supply of new photos to work on and decided to take a break from the laptop. Going down to the lake would be something to do, but he didn't want to go alone. He still didn't care much for the woods, but didn't mind walking there with Sean, who never tired of telling him the names of the different types of trees, plants and birds when he asked, and who didn't think he was stupid because he didn't already know. But Elijah wouldn't ask Sean to go with him.

Sean had been working at his desk since right after lunch, without once taking a break. He still seemed totally absorbed in his writing, so there was no way Elijah was going to disturb him. He'd just find something else to occupy himself with. Elijah loved doing crossword puzzles and kept a book of them in his bag, but with spending so much time on his photographs, he hadn't looked at it once since he'd been at the cabin. He got the book out, along with his Walkman, and told Sean he was going to go sit out on the porch. Sean, still working intently, didn't look up from his papers, just nodded in acknowledgment.

When he got to the bookcase, Elijah stopped to look at Sean's collection, which shared the space with his DVD's. While there were only a dozen or so movies, Sean could have opened a used bookstore with all the books he had. Elijah remembered thinking that when he'd first seen the books, he'd been sure Sean couldn't possibly have read them all, but now he would have been willing to bet that Sean _had_ read them all, some probably more than once.

Sean's novel was back in its place on the shelf and Elijah looked at it, considering. Even though Sean had told him it didn't matter, he still felt bad about the terrible things he'd said about the book. Pedar had called it a "literary novel," said it was a "thinking man's book," something you had to work at to enjoy, and Elijah wondered if the reason he hadn't liked it was because he hadn't worked hard enough. Or maybe he just hadn't been mature enough to appreciate Sean's style. He'd just turned nineteen when he first tried reading it so maybe now that he was three years older, he'd get more out of it. Besides, Sean had said his character Jay was like Elijah, so that would probably make the book more interesting to him this time. Elijah wanted desperately to like the book, and to be able to tell Sean so, so he plucked it from the shelf and took it outside with him. He was so intent on giving the book his full attention that he put aside his Walkman so there would be nothing to distract him from Sean's words.

He didn't like it much better the second time around. Pedar had been right, you really _did_ have to work hard to get something out of it. Sean's book was weighty in more ways than one. It was over five hundred pages long, and written in a style that reminded Elijah of those English "classics" he'd had to read in school, their language so far removed from everyday speech that he'd had to resort to Cliff Notes to help him figure out what had taken place in them. Even though he wasn't the reader that Sean obviously was, Elijah didn't hate books, and he was determined to give Sean's novel a second chance.

His attempt wasn't the failure it was the first time around. Elijah managed to force his way through three chapters before giving up, never even getting as far as Jay's entrance into the story. He decided he still wasn't mature enough to appreciate Sean's literary style, which left him feeling pretty discouraged when he remembered that Sean had been younger than Elijah was now when he'd written it. Elijah had almost told Sean he was going to try reading the book again, but was glad he'd changed his mind. He went back inside to put the book back. Sean was still concentrating on his writing and wasn't even aware Elijah had come back in, so Elijah quickly returned the book to the shelf. Having to tell Sean he'd begun reading the book a second time and still couldn't get into it would only hurt Sean's feelings, so Elijah wouldn't mention it.

Pedar had only talked about Sean's first novel, but as he slid the thick book back into its place on the shelf, Elijah saw that there were two other books with Sean's name on their dust jackets. Even more impressed to find out that Sean had written not one book, but three, he reached for the second, then hesitated. If the other two read like the first one, he probably wouldn't like them either, but he'd never know if he didn't try. And if it turned out he didn't like them, Elijah would keep that to himself. Sean would never have to know. He'd rather have Sean believe he didn't like reading than find out it was just _Sean's_ books he didn't like. Elijah took Sean's second book off the shelf, glancing over as he did to see if Sean had noticed, but Sean hadn't looked up once since he'd come back in, so Elijah was able to slip outside again.

Once he was back on the porch and settled in his chair again, Elijah took a good look at the book he'd brought out with him. It was a slim volume, maybe one-fourth the size of Sean's first book, and it couldn't have made a more different first impression. _A Moth In Amber's_ cover had been gray, with somber black lettering, the publisher's imprint in purple the only real color on the jacket. The title of this book, _Dreamer's Chance_, was spelled out in rainbow colors over a whimsical illustration of a nerdy young guy with horn-rimmed glasses standing in the middle of a blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds.

Elijah turned the book over and saw that the Sean looking out from the author photo was different, too. He looked a little older, but the stern expression he'd worn in his first photo was gone, replaced by a smile so wide it had made the skin around his eyes crinkle. Opening the book, Elijah read the blurb on the left flap of the dust jacket.  


> **In spite of the easy, careful life he lives, Clive Dillard is a dreamer. When a sudden brush with death one morning moves him to alter his usual course, a string of random choices unfold before him, leading him toward all that his secret heart desires. Will he take an incautious leap of faith and follow?**

  
Encouraged by the book's description and its appearance -- maybe you really _could_ judge a book by its cover -- Elijah turned to Chapter One and began to read. Unlike Sean's first book, this one was written in first person rather than third, and Clive, his narrator, had such a friendly, down-to-earth way of speaking that it made the words come alive for Elijah, allowing him to visualize every scene. He felt like he was inside Clive's world, which turned out to be a very quirky place. Elijah had chosen his favorite Smashing Pumpkins albums to listen to while he read, but got so caught up in the story that he was sitting there for fifteen minutes with nothing coming through his headphones before he realized the CD had ended. He didn't even bother changing it out for another, just hung the headphones around his neck and kept on reading.

After a while Elijah stood up, needing to stretch his legs, and when he used the flap of the dust jacket to mark his place in the book, was surprised to find he'd read almost half of it. Sean's two books were so different that if he hadn't known better, Elijah would have sworn they'd been written by two different people, and had to wonder what had caused such an abrupt change in his style. Following a hunch, he opened the book again, and there, right after the title page, was the dedication:  


> **For Daniel, my heart's beat, my life's breath, my love.**

  
Of course.

Daniel had already been a part of Sean's world when he began writing his second book, had become the love of his life by the time he had finished it. Elijah read the dedication again, wondering what it must feel like to have someone love you that much. He tried to remember Pedar speaking about him that way, as if Elijah had been the center of his universe, but couldn't recall even one time. Fingering the rose quartz beads on the bracelet he still wore, Elijah realized that although Pedar had talked about love, he had never actually told Elijah that he loved him, while Elijah had said those words to Pedar many times.

The love that Sean and Daniel had shared was something most people only dreamed about but were never lucky enough to experience. Daniel was dead, but Elijah still envied him for having known that kind of love once in his life. He marked his place in the book then put it down again, unable to bring himself to read any further.

**********

It had been more than a week since Sean had seen Elijah smoke, and he was deeply thankful for whatever had brought that about. It had to be a struggle for the boy, but he was coping with it very well and seemed more and more at ease. He was surely feeling better physically. Sean hoped he was feeling better emotionally as well. He certainly spent less time staring into space with that brooding sadness over him. Sean wasn't sure how much more of that he could have taken, feeling unable to make it better. But it _was_ getting better.

Elijah seemed to have found a comfort zone for himself, and more. The camera had become something of an obsession for him. He took it with him wherever they went, down to the lake or walking in the woods, even out to the garden to help with the bean picking. His photos were very good, artfully composed and beautifully polished. He carefully chose all of the best ones and then tentatively presented them. Sean was more than pleased to tell him they were great, and mean it. He'd caught a few good photos of the band from the fair, and found an email address on their disk cover. He wished he could send them the pics, he said, and that started Sean thinking about a satellite dish and whether the cabin really needed to be as isolated as it was.

Elijah spent a good many evening hours working on his photographs. Sean spent those hours writing, or at least thinking about writing. He took out the thin folder containing his current project, more notes than text and those were sketchy and disorganized. He'd only been going through the motions and knew perfectly well it belonged in the trash. But he knew what it needed, a complete re-thinking, and he was beginning to feel like he might be able to do that.

It was a simple routine they settled into as the days passed, but Elijah didn't seem bored, cheerfully helping out with whatever needed to be done. And willing, even eager, to get outside and do things. They talked more and more about all kinds of things, learning each other, and began to feel like partners, to Sean. Every day, they spent hour upon hour together. Every night, they shared the bed. Like lovers, in most ways. The feelings Sean had for Elijah were deeply tender ones.

It didn't feel much like the beginning of September, but the temperatures were finally dropping. In just a few days, they went from upper nineties to mid eighties. It didn't mean there'd be rain necessarily, but it felt hopeful. The garden was hanging on, the deep well still pumping up precious water to keep it going. They had fresh cucumbers and tomatoes most every day, plenty of squash and beans, and their one melon was slowly turning a rich, dark green.

The days were still hot, with no cloud cover to block the sun, but the nights were beautiful, clear and warm. They sat out on the porch after sunset Thursday evening and watched the stars come up against the darkening sky. Fireflies winked on and off at the edge of the wood. Lounging comfortably in his chair beside Sean's, Elijah breathed a satisfied sigh, turning a soft smile his way. Sean sat there just drinking in the sight of him for far too long, then said some silly something about the moonlight. For a moment, Elijah stared into his eyes with an expression of longing. In the pale dwindling light, it looked like longing to Sean, or maybe it was just his wistful heart that made him see it that way. He could have leaned forward over the arm of his chair and just pressed his lips to the boy's. He could have done something. But the moment passed. Elijah quietly laughed, dropping his eyes and then leaning his head back to look up at the stars.

It was possible Elijah had been reading his book. He'd taken it from the shelf when he thought Sean wasn't looking and disappeared with it for an hour or so. Sean wasn't sure why Elijah didn't want him knowing, but he played along, and just hoped the boy didn't hate it. It wasn't dark and heavy like the first, because he'd been in a very happy place when he wrote it. It caused him a twinge of an ache in his chest to realize he hadn't thought about Daniel very much in the past few days. But he let it go and it passed quickly enough.

It was Friday morning before Sean made it into town again, picking up a few things while Elijah went through his latest batch of photos. They were planning to take the canoe out and do some exploring in the afternoon, and he'd be filling the card again. It occurred to Sean that if they were in the city, he could drop by the nearest Circuit City and get him a spare card. The boy could use a pair of good hiking boots, too. Sean hadn't gone as far as Groveton in a couple of months. Maybe it was time to make the trip. It was a nice little fantasy to occupy the drive into town, until reality reminded him that Elijah could be on his way again very soon. Their time together was too valuable to waste. He stopped to quickly fill the gas tank and the fuel cans for the generator, then hurried on over to Jenkins' store.

There really were chocolate Pop-Tarts, amazingly enough, and Sean put two boxes in the basket with only a little hesitation. It would make Elijah smile, he had no doubt, and Elijah could use the calories with all the increased activity he was getting up to. Sean grabbed a few perishables and then took care of the one thing he wished he could put off. He called the garage. But he needn't have worried. They didn't even have the parts yet. It might be another week. Sean did a little dance inside, and told the man he'd call again then. He took his purchases to the counter, smiling no doubt. Jenkins gave him an odd look, and a bundle of mail, and watched him write out his check.

In the Jeep, Sean looked through his mail and found a letter from Aunt Til. If it was in answer to his letter to her, she must have dashed it off right away. He put aside the rest of the stack and opened her envelope, pale blue with an olive border, addressed in the strong but elegant hand that was so much like Daniel's. There was one page of matching stationary. He unfolded and read it.

> **  
> My dear Sean,**
> 
> I was so pleased to get your letter, and much relieved to know it is getting better for you. Time does mend, even though we sometimes wish it wouldn't.

Sean abruptly felt a rising lump in his throat. Til understood exactly what he'd been going through the past year and he wished he hadn't shut her out like he had.

> **  
> I have been thinking of you, and the woods and the lake, and I've decided to pay the old cabin a visit. I hope you won't mind opening the place up for me and airing it out. I should arrive on Friday. I hope you'll get this in time to be there to greet me. Looking forward to seeing you.**
> 
> love, Til

Sean blinked. Friday? This Friday? _Today?_ He quickly buckled his seatbelt and started the engine, and headed for home. Or he could go straight to her place. He'd need to fuel the generator and make sure it was in working order, and stack in some firewood in case the nights turned cool. There was sure to be a layer of dust on everything, so he'd have to do some cleaning. Not that she'd expect him to do it, but he wanted to. He was looking forward to seeing her, but he wanted to see Elijah first. Elijah might want to come along. Sean wondered what Til was going to think about Elijah.


	18. Chapter 18

With Sean gone, the cabin felt empty, and way too quiet. Elijah started for the laptop, then stopped himself. Hadn't he just decided he'd cut back on the time he spent on the computer?

Sean had told him all the electricity they were using in the cabin came from an external power source, but Elijah hadn't given much thought to what that meant until Sean said he had to go into town for more gasoline to run the generator. He'd been spending so much time using the laptop, and because he couldn't stand the heat, Sean had left the fans running practically non-stop, which made Elijah feel guilty about how much extra power Sean was using because of him. Sean didn't use the laptop, and seemed less bothered by the heat, so when he was alone in the cabin, he probably used less than half the amount of electricity they'd been using since Elijah had come.

"You've had to run the generator a lot more with me here," Elijah had announced with some awkwardness as Sean was getting ready to leave. "I should have realized, but I didn't think. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Sean had told him.

"I won't spend so much time on the laptop from now on, and it's cooler, so we won't need the fan as much."

"Elijah, it's fine."

"At least let me pay for the gas," Elijah had offered, reaching for his wallet, but Sean had put his hands up in protest.

"Absolutely not. You're my guest--"

"But I'm not, not really. It's not like you invited me. I just showed up."

Sean had smiled at that, a warm smile that had traveled up to his eyes. "Even so, I've enjoyed the company, and while you're here, I want you to feel comfortable. I promise you, a few extras gallons of gasoline aren't going to bankrupt me, so please stop worrying about the money, okay?"

"Okay." Despite Sean's assurances that the money wasn't a problem, Elijah had already decided he'd limit his time on the computer anyway. "Is there anything you want me to do around here while you're gone?" he'd asked. "I can straighten up."

"There's nothing to straighten up," had been Sean's reply. "Just relax, or better yet, why don't you come with me?"

Elijah had been surprised by the invitation since Sean had gone to the store several times in the last two weeks and had never suggested he come along. He had almost said yes immediately, remembering the pay phone in the general store and thinking how nice it would be to call Hannah and find out if she'd gotten his letter. But the idea of going back into the store after what had happened the first time made him feel queasy. He was sure the storekeeper would ask questions, and he wasn't ready to answer them. He also didn't want Sean to think he was a wimp for not wanting to face the man, but what excuse could he give? Not able to think of any plausible reason to refuse, Elijah had ended up telling Sean he didn't want to go with him to the store so he wouldn't be tempted to buy cigarettes.

It sounded like a lame excuse, even to him, but Sean hadn't questioned it. Instead, a strange look had come into his eyes, one Elijah couldn't read. Then Sean had said, "I noticed you haven't been smoking, Elijah. I'm very glad." Stepping out onto the porch, he'd turned back to ask, "Is there anything special you'd like me to get for you while I'm at the store?" When Elijah couldn't think of anything, Sean had gotten into the Jeep and driven off.

After spending so much time with Sean, both inside the cabin and outdoors, he didn't like being alone, which was funny because when he was living with Pedar, he'd always enjoyed having time to himself. Maybe he was just out of practice. Pedar put in full days at his office during the week, and sometimes even went in on weekends, so Elijah always had a lot of time by himself. When things got bad with Pedar, he'd often wished he had more, but now, being alone didn't feel all that great.

Figuring Sean would be gone for a couple of hours, Elijah went to sit out on the porch. Sean's novel was still on the chair where he'd left it the previous day, and finding his place, he began to read. After only a few pages he was once again completely immersed in Clive Dillard's world.

Some of the situations Sean's hero got himself into were outrageous, yet Sean made them all seem totally believable. Clive was looking for love, searching for it anywhere and everywhere, and finally coming to the realization that it had been there all along in his best friend Jack. It was a story everyone could relate to, man or woman, gay or straight. Though it rarely worked out that way in real life, Elijah was hoping for a happy ending, and when Clive and Jack declared their love for each other on the last page, he was grinning. He closed the book, feeling totally satisfied.

Had Pedar read this book, too? If he had, he'd probably hated it. Elijah knew he would consider it frivolous compared to Sean's first novel, and he would never have been able to explain to Pedar why this book, a quirky romance, had appealed to him when he hadn't even been able to finish the other.

Elijah blinked. He'd finished Sean's book. In two days. And really enjoyed it. He would have told Sean he liked the book even if he hadn't, but now, being able to say so and mean it made Elijah feel so good that he couldn't wait for Sean to get back from the store so he could tell him. He hoped Sean would be pleased.

Going back inside, he returned the book to the shelf, then took down Sean's third novel. This one was called _The Longer Way_. Elijah hoped it was written in the same style as _Dreamer's Chance_, but just as he was opening the book so he could read the blurb on the left flap of the dust jacket, he heard the sound of the Jeep's engine. Quickly putting the book back in its place, he went outside to meet Sean.

"Let me help you," Elijah offered as Sean got out of the Jeep. Sean went around to the passenger side and lifted out a cardboard box containing his store purchases. Elijah took it out of his hands and started back up the porch steps. When he looked back he saw Sean was getting the gas cans out of the back of the Jeep. Bringing the box inside, Elijah put it on the counter by the sink and was surprised to see a loaf of white bread on top. _Was_ he becoming a bad influence on Sean? Just the thought of it had him grinning. He began to unpack the box, taking out the milk and butter first and putting them in the frig, then sorting out the non-perishables. When he lifted the bread out of the box he saw what had been underneath it. Two boxes of Pop-Tarts. _Chocolate_ Pop-Tarts. Elijah had mentioned them in passing a week ago, but Sean had remembered, and bought them just because he knew it would please Elijah to have them. At the sound of the front door opening he turned, holding one of the Pop-Tarts boxes in his hand, ready to thank Sean, but before he could say anything, Sean spoke.

"I called the garage while I was in town, to check on the car."

Elijah's heart sank. Of course Sean would check on the car, and how stupid had he been not to realize it? Just because Sean hadn't mentioned it before he left didn't mean he'd forgotten. "Yeah?" Elijah asked tentatively. "Ah...is it ready?"

"No, they don't even have the parts yet," Sean replied. "It'll be at least another week."

Elijah tried his best not to let how much this news pleased him show on his face, but it wouldn't have mattered because Sean wasn't looking at him. He was looking down instead, focusing all of his attention instead on the mail he'd brought inside with him. It made Elijah wonder if Sean was pissed, but if he was annoyed or upset about the delay, it didn't show. In fact, looking at Sean's face, Elijah couldn't tell how he felt about it, but he could tell that there was something on Sean's mind. Elijah cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know when you offered to let me stay you didn't expect me to be here this long."

"Mmmm?" Sean murmured absently, then looked up, as if he'd suddenly realized Elijah had spoken. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Elijah. I told you, you're welcome to stay here for as long as you like."

Elijah bit his lip. "But there _is_ something bothering you, isn't there?"

"Bothering me?" Sean seemed surprised by the question. "No, everything's fine," he assured Elijah. "I'm just a little preoccupied. We're going to have company."

"Company?" Elijah's stomach tightened with a barely-forgotten fear.

"Yes, Daniel's Aunt Tilda," Sean explained. "I wrote to her last week, and she wrote back to say she's decided to spend a little time at her cabin. Her letter was waiting for me at the store when I picked up the groceries."

When Sean had shown him the cabin from the canoe, Elijah had never considered that Daniel's aunt might show up while he was still at Sean's. "When's she coming?" he asked.

"Today. This afternoon, actually, which is why I'm a little at odds. She asked if I'd open up the cabin for her. I want to make sure it's ready when she gets here so I'm going to go over there now and get started. You should come with me. I know Til will want to meet you."

Elijah doubted that. She was Daniel's aunt, so it wasn't likely she'd be very happy about some stranger living in her nephew's house, with her nephew's lover. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Elijah shrugged, embarrassed by what he'd been thinking. "She's family," he said finally. "I mean, she's Daniel's family. I'm sure she'll want to spend all her time here with you. I'd only be in the way."

"That's not true," Sean insisted. "Besides, once I tell her about you, she'll think it's odd if you don't at least come over and say hello."

"She doesn't know about me?" Elijah asked uneasily. "When you wrote to her, you didn't tell her I was staying here?"

Sean shook his head. "No, but it won't matter. I really want you to meet her, Elijah. She's seventy-three, but she's got very modern sensibilities, and I've never known anyone so full of life. You'll like her, and I know she's going to like you."

Elijah still wasn't convinced, but said, "If she's going to be here soon, you'll need a hand to get the cabin ready in time. I could help."

"I'd really appreciate that," Sean told him, looking genuinely pleased by Elijah's offer. "The work will definitely go faster with two of us there. Thank you, Elijah."

******

Inevitably, Sean found Daniel back in his thoughts. Memories only, soft whispers of things that had been. A little bit sad, some of them, but not all. Sean felt it more with bewilderment than pain. How was it possible that only a few weeks ago he'd been struggling still with bouts of the darkest despair? He knew, of course. Elijah had come into his dream and shook him awake. Elijah was the reason he looked ahead now. He couldn't help wondering if Til would see it in the way he looked at the boy.

Elijah was leaning out the passenger side window watching the woods go by, camera at hand. Sean returned his eyes to the road as he drove cautiously on. He wasn't worried about what Til would think. She would be very glad he was feeling better at last. She would tell him it was what Daniel would have wanted. Unless she'd changed, which was a distinct possibility. Sean felt like he'd changed a great deal.

"Is everything all right, Sean?"

Sean schooled whatever expression he had on his face into one more of reassurance. "Yes, Elijah." He took in a breath and slowly let it out. "I was thinking of Daniel, remembering. It's good to remember."

Elijah nodded, agreeing, perhaps thinking of his mother. "It must feel weird though. You and Daniel used to come here and spend time with Aunt Tilda." A shadow of unease came across his face and Sean reached out a hand like he would lay it on the boy's knee, only stopped just in time to pat his shoulder instead.

"Til's going to like you. No worries."

Elijah smiled a little and said he hoped so.

They had to stop, not for the first time, to pull tree limbs and other long passed storm debris out of the way. Til's lane was shorter and less winding than Sean's, because it tended to go over the hills rather than around them. And it was badly neglected. But Til would know to go carefully. Sean added that to his mental list of things to take care of soon.

The little house looked as overgrown and abandoned from the lane as it had from the lake, but it had its odd charm all the same. It was all Til, designed and built back in her early thirties when, as she told it herself, she'd been looking for a place to escape the intentions of men. It was whimsical in some ways and staid in others, a little bit country cottage and a little bit fifties modern, with a smattering of Victorian gingerbread at the peak of the front face, and a broad covered porch that spanned its width. Til had set the stones in the chimney with her own hands, so she said. Sean had no trouble believing it.

Elijah stood beside him, looking around. After more than two years of neglect, the lawn had reverted to low brush and tough, drought resistant raspberry brambles, and there was poison ivy everywhere. The roses had gone native, which made Sean smile. Til would like that. The old China had grown out around the cedar bench and the path up into the woods. Sean thought it must be quite a sight in bloom. He suggested that Elijah might like to take a few pictures before he started clearing. Elijah did.

Sean made his way to the generator house with a couple of cans of fuel and got the power up and running, then carried the cooler from the Jeep to the porch, and took out his keys to open the house. The other cabin had been on the property when the family acquired it and was much older. Til's place was a bit larger, with a many windowed and airy loft up a narrow, turning stair. It also had a high peaked ceiling there in the main room and a great stone hearth. It had a nicer kitchen too. Sean plugged in the refrigerator to get it cooling down, and turned on the fan, then they went around opening windows to let in some fresh air.

The furniture was covered, so all it really needed was a good sweeping once the sheets were folded up and stashed away. Elijah offered to do the sweeping so Sean could get some work done outside, and Sean gladly took him up on that. They moved the wicker out to the porch and then he went to open up the tool shed. It was hot inside, the air old and stale. He took off his shirt first thing and hung it out of harm's way. It was sweaty work he'd be doing. He had enough fuel for the weed whacker, but chose the sickle instead. He'd left the blade sharpened so it only needed a few swipes of the stone.

Til liked things left natural as much as possible, so he mostly just took down the tall grass and thin brush around the steps and walkways, and cleared a path to the lakeshore and boat dock. The house needed some maintenance, but he could do that any time before cold weather. He cleared a path to the woodshed, and on around the side of the house, where wild grapevines were overtaking the clearing where the chopping stump sat.

There was a good half cord of neatly sectioned logs in the woodshed. Sean had done that himself two summers ago, the last time he and Daniel were out. The wood was well seasoned, but needed splitting. He went back to the tool shed for the ax, figuring he'd just split enough to fill the basket by the fireplace a few times. Fall was coming, and it couldn't come too soon for Sean. He found himself hoping the weather cooled down before Elijah had to go.

******

Elijah was working in the living room. It had two big windows, and with the drapes open, the sun was bathing the room in a golden yellow light. He made his way across the hardwood floor, the broom moving in time to the Radiohead tune that was playing inside his head. He wished he'd thought to bring along his Walkman. Listening to music while he did them always made chores like this feel less like work. The seven dwarfs had the right idea, but unlike Snow White's little pals, Elijah couldn't whistle for shit.

Tilda's cabin was nice, really nice. Elijah hadn't been able to resist having a look around before getting down to work. While he loved Sean's cabin, it was basically one big room, while this was more like a regular house. It had the living room, plus a bedroom, a bathroom and a real kitchen area. There was even a second floor that had been set up as a kind of home office. If this was her summer place, Elijah had to wonder what her year-round house looked like. Fucking awesome, he was sure. But Sean's cabin was a home. This was just a vacation house, somewhere to get away from everyday life, not a place to live it.

Sean was so sure Til was going to like him, but that was just Sean's way, always focusing on the positive. Elijah still had his doubts. Despite her _modern sensibilities_ \-- Elijah had to smile as he remembered the way Sean had described her -- she was still Daniel's aunt, and she'd have every right to be suspicious of someone who'd appeared on Sean's doorstep the way he had, especially if Sean told her what condition he'd been in when he got there.

The idea of Sean telling Til his story had fear balling in his belly again, but he told himself that wasn't going to happen. Sean would never share anything he knew about Elijah with Til, not without his permission, but how much _would_ Sean tell her? Certainly not that they were sharing Sean and Daniel's bed.

Til had known Sean and Daniel were gay -- how could she not? -- but she wouldn't know he was, and there was no reason she had to find out. Elijah shook his head. Why was he working himself up like this? It shouldn't matter to him whether Til liked him or not, but he knew it mattered to Sean, and because of that, it mattered to Elijah, too. There was no use making himself crazy. Once the old lady arrived, then he'd see what was what. Until then he'd just have to wait.

Once he was done with the sweeping, there didn't seem much left for Elijah to do. He'd gotten off easy. Sean was doing all the tough jobs. He'd gassed up the generator, and after he'd shown Elijah where the broom closet was, said he was going to go outside and do some work on the grounds Even with the lower temperatures, Sean had to be hot working outside, so Elijah decided to see if he'd like a drink. They'd left the cooler on the porch, and opening it, Elijah took out a bottle of water for Sean and a bottle of Diet Pepsi for himself. He expected to see Sean working along the walkway leading up to the porch, but he wasn't there.

A sudden noise broke the silence, what sounded to Elijah like the cracking of wood. He listened for it a second time, and when it came again, followed the sound, which took him around to the side of the house. He stopped short when he found Sean there, chopping wood. Sean had told him he preferred this method of cutting firewood, but Elijah hadn't really thought about how physical the work was. There was a small pile of logs on the ground, and Elijah watched as Sean took one, placed it on what looked like a broad tree stump, then brought the ax down in the middle of it, splitting it in two with only one blow. He continued to watch, awestruck, as Sean repeated the process, cutting three more of the logs before stopping to wipe his face on his forearm.

Sean was working bare-chested, and it gave Elijah a little start to see him that way because it was the first time since he'd been at the cabin that Sean had been without a shirt. Sean always made it a point to stay dressed, even in bed, but now Elijah could see the body Sean's sweats and loose clothing had been hiding. Sean wasn't sporting a six-pack, but he was in great shape, his muscles firm and nicely toned, those muscles dancing with each swing of the ax. While before Elijah had noticed traces of hair peeking out from the collar of Sean's shirts, now he saw that a thick layer of hair covered most of Sean's chest, growing down onto his stomach where it disappeared down inside the waistband of his jeans.

_He's like a big teddy bear_, Elijah thought, and he found himself wondering, just for a moment, what Sean's _fur_ would feel like against his bare skin. He shook his head to rid himself of the unwanted thought, taken aback that his mind had produced it.

Sean obviously didn't realize he'd come outside, and standing there watching Sean without his knowledge made Elijah feel as if he was spying on him. He knew he should just bring Sean the water, but then Sean began chopping again, and while Elijah's brain told him to move, his feet wouldn't obey. More swinging of the ax produced a fresh sheen of perspiration that gleamed on Sean's shoulders and back. His dark nipples, which before had looked flat, now stood at attention, poking through the chest hair his sweat had made into tiny ringlets.

Elijah's pulse began to quicken. He swallowed hard, and raising the chilled Diet Pepsi bottle to his forehead, let the condensation cool his brow. When he felt the almost imperceptible stirring in his groin, his hand went automatically to adjust the crotch of his jeans, then froze. Sean was his friend. A guy wasn't supposed to get hard looking at a friend. The idea of it made Elijah feel dirty.

He hadn't given sex so much as a passing thought since he'd left Pedar, so having his body come alive in a sexual way like this, so out of the blue, was a shock. Even more shocking was the realization that Sean had been the cause of it.

Elijah had been staying at the cabin for over a week, had seen Sean every day, had even slept in the same bed with him for fuck's sake. Was Sean taking off his shirt all it had taken for Elijah to see him in a new light, to think of him in a sexual way, as another gay man? Was he really that shallow? He needed to think of something else, something that would distract him from Sean's bare chest and straining muscles.

What he needed was to stop watching Sean. Elijah closed his eyes, but even behind his eyelids he could still see the image of Sean wielding the ax, still see Sean's stomach muscles dancing with each swing of the handle. What had started out as a slight discomfort became more pronounced and now his cock was straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Hey, perfect timing. I was just thinking about a cold drink."

At the sound of Sean's voice, Elijah opened his eyes and saw that Sean had stopped working and was standing there, looking pleased to see him. He swung the ax one more time, securing the blade in the chopping block, then after wiping his face again, started toward Elijah.

Elijah could feel his cheeks burning. Instead of going forward to meet Sean, he began edging backward, widening the space between them. He'd never felt so mortified. He was going to die of shame if Sean saw him like this. Desperate to hide his embarrassing condition, Elijah turned his back to Sean, awkwardly holding the bottle of water out behind him. He mumbled that he should get back to work, but before he could get away, he felt Sean's hand on his back, the touch gentle.

"What's wrong, Elijah?" Sean asked. "Are you feeling sick?"

"I just got a little dizzy," Elijah lied.

Hearing that made Sean come around so he could get a good look at Elijah. "Your face is very flushed," he said with concern. "I hope you're not running a fever again." He raised his hand, preparing to check. "Let me see."

Elijah stepped back before Sean's fingers could touch his forehead. "No--I don't think so," he said quickly. "It's still pretty hot inside, that's all."

Sean lowered his arm. "Then you need to take a break. I could use one myself about now." He glanced toward the lake. "How about a swim?" he asked. "It's just the two of us, so you can wear your boxers or--"

Elijah knew just what the _or_ was going to be. Sean was going to suggest they go skinny-dipping, so he cut him off. "I don't feel like swimming, but you go ahead."

Sean shook his head, stepping towards him. "I don't like leaving you alone if you're not feeling well."

"I don't need a babysitter." Wanting to get away from Sean, and his frustration at Sean's insistence on staying so close to him had made Elijah sound like a petulant child. He took a deep breath then began again. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine, Sean, really. It's not like I was doing anything really hard." He winced at what, under the circumstances, had to be the worst possible choice of words. "You're the one who's been out here doing the real work. You deserve to cool off in the lake."

"I _would_ like to wash this sweat off before Til gets here," Sean admitted.

"Then you should do it," Elijah prompted, Sean's scent filling his nostrils. It was a heady mix of sweat, soap and natural body odor, and Elijah breathed it in. "I don't want to go in the water right now," he said, trying his best to keep his eyes on Sean's as he spoke, "but I'll sit on the dock and watch if that's okay."

Focusing on Sean's face helped, and mercifully, Elijah's arousal began to subside. When his cock had finally returned to an almost normal state, he gave a small sigh of relief and studied Sean anxiously. If Sean _had_ noticed his erection when they were face to face, Elijah saw no sign of it now.

Sean smiled at him. "Suit yourself," he said, then turned and headed toward the dock.

Elijah didn't follow right away. For a few minutes he just stood where he was, his mind a jumble of confused thoughts.


	19. Chapter 19

It was ridiculous to be going in swimming half-dressed, but Sean kept his jeans on anyway. Elijah's odd manner, guarded and uneasy, set off serious alarms for him. The fact was, Sean had been very careful to be modest around the boy. After the abuse Elijah had come from so recently, he had wanted to appear as non-threatening as possible. Non-threatening. Non-sexual. It seemed he'd been right in his thinking, because Elijah was clearly uncomfortable with him standing there bare-chested. And Sean wasn't going to make it worse by exposing any more of himself than he already had.

The clear, cool lake water relieved the heated buzzing in his head. He dove down to the rocky bottom and came up again at the edge of the dock. Elijah had come and sat down there with his legs dangling. He'd taken off his sneakers and socks, but the water was too low for him to dabble his feet. Sean obligingly splashed them, squinting to look up at him against the sun. He was relieved to get a smile and a thanks, the unsettled mood apparently passed. Sean told him the water was fine and he ought to come in, but he declined.

"Maybe next time." He sat on his hands and waggled his feet. "I read your book, Sean. The second one."

Sean casually scooped up water to pour over his bare toes. "Did you?"

Elijah nodded. "I really liked it, a lot."

Looking up into the boy's bright, eager face, Sean couldn't doubt that he meant it. "Thank you, Elijah. I'm glad you gave it a chance." He reached for the ladder, ducking under the surface once more to get his hair back off of his face, and climbed out onto the dock. He wasn't going to ask, much as he might want to.

Elijah looked out across the lake, watching a pair of geese coming in to land. Sean squeegeed the excess water from his hair and shook a little. The jeans were going to be uncomfortable for a while, but the dry heat would quickly suck the moisture out of them. He pulled on his shirt, then sat down next to Elijah, honestly meaning not to ask, and did anyway. "What did you like about it?"

Tilting his head with a thoughtful look, Elijah said, "It was fun. And romantic. I liked that everything turned out right in the end." He looked into Sean's eyes, laughing. "I was really rooting for Clive."

There was no finer compliment as far as Sean was concerned, than for someone to sincerely care about your characters. He smiled. "You like romance."

It seemed to embarrass the boy a little, but he admitted it. "Yeah."

Wistfully, Sean said, "So do I."

The sun was beating down and Elijah didn't have his hat on. Sean suggested they go have the lunch they'd brought along, so they left the dock to sit in the wicker chairs under the porch awning, and ate their sandwiches and leftover zucchini bread. It was maybe an hour past noon when the faint sound of an auto engine reached them, growing steadily until it appeared topping the hill through the trees and finally pulled up alongside the Jeep to park. A newish SUV, small and packed full, it looked like. Sean passed Elijah a reassuring smile, and left him there to go and greet Tilda.

"Nice ride," he grinned as she beamed at him through the open window.

"Borrowed, alas, but I may have to get one for myself. It makes me feel positively rugged."

Sean opened the door for her and she stepped out with plenty of grace and agility. She'd seemed thin and a little frail when he last saw her at the funeral. It had added immensely to his grief. But here she was looking well and able again. He opened his mouth to tell her she looked fantastic and was abruptly caught up in a caring and heartfelt embrace. It squeezed his heart, and brought an unexpected tear to his eye. He sniffed it down and hugged her back. "It's so great to see you, Til."

She held him for a long while, then carefully studied his face. "You're looking good, Sean, I'm so glad. Daniel can rest easy now."

To his astonishment, Sean believed she was right about that.

"And you smell of the lake, as you should." She took his hand, smiling, gazing around. "Oh my, look at that old China. Mary would be after it with her clippers before you could sneeze." Tilda disliked the smell of roses herself and avoided them when they were in bloom.

"I'm afraid I let Mary's roses go," Sean sighed.

Tilda squeezed his hand. "I've been telling you to for years, Sean. Mary had a bit of a wild streak in her. She wouldn't have minded." She patted his hand with her other and then let it go. "It does look dry here, as I've heard. It's been a long time since I've seen the lake so low."

Sean tried to apologize for not keeping in touch with her and at least letting her know how the house was, but she cut him off.

"Don't, Sean. I could have written and pushed you. I thought it best to wait, and I think that was right." She craned her neck, noticing Elijah sitting up on the porch, watching them. "My dear Sean, what _have_ you been up to?"

A little shocked that she'd think such a thing, and mortified that after all, dear god, she'd be right, he lied to her, sort of. "Til, it isn't anything like it looks, honestly. He found his way onto my lane somehow and broke down and I'm just trying to help him out. You know?"

Tilda gave Sean a very curious looking at and then slipped her arm through his. "Well, you'd better introduce us, hadn't you?"

********

Watching Sean and Tilda climb the porch steps had Elijah's stomach feeling jittery. For a fleeting moment he wanted to run, but managed to control the urge. He knew it was stupid for him to feel so nervous about her visit, but she had meant something to Daniel, still meant something to Sean, and that was reason enough for Elijah to want her to like him.

She didn't look at all the way he'd expected. When Sean first told him about Daniel's aunt, he'd pictured her as one of those old ladies from the British mysteries Dom and Billy loved to watch on Public Television, white-haired, wearing a flowered hat, and always dressed in tweed, no matter what the season. She did have white hair, but that was the only similarity between her and those matrons on PBS.

The woman was taller than Sean, and while she was thin, she didn't look at all frail in her black pants and v-necked black top. There were silver balls at her ears, pierced ones, Elijah was pretty sure, and she wore several silver chains around her neck. The watch on her wrist was silver, too, with an intricate design, and looked old enough to be a family heirloom. She _was_ wearing a hat, but it wasn't a frumpy one. It was more of a cap, black like the rest of her clothes, with a wide brim. The outfit made her look very cool, and much younger than the seventy-three years Sean had said she was.

Elijah put on what he hoped was his most welcoming smile and prepared to meet Aunt Tilda.

"Elijah," Sean said when they reached him, "I'd like you to meet Tilda Keeler. Til, this is Elijah Wood. He's staying at the cabin with me until his car is fixed."

Elijah tentatively held out a hand. He'd seen Tilda grab Sean in what looked like a tight hug, and thought uneasily that she might do the same thing with him. If she did hug him, he was afraid he might flinch, and the idea of doing anything that would embarrass Sean had him feeling even more nervous. But Tilda only took his hand in both of hers and gave it a good, strong shake. Relieved, Elijah said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Keeler."

"Oh dear," Tilda laughed, "we can't have that. Tilda will do nicely, thank you. And may I call you Elijah?"

Elijah nodded. "Sure."

"Good. Are you enjoying your stay here, Elijah?"

Elijah nodded again. "Sean's been very good to me," he said, then colored. Why had he said that? She'd asked if he was enjoying his stay, not how well Sean had treated him.

"Sean is a wonderful man," Tilda said with a smile and a glance at Sean.

"I was sick when I got here," Elijah continued, "and Sean took care of me. He even gave me his bed." Shit. He hadn't meant to tell her that, but it was like he couldn't control the words that were coming out of his mouth. What the fuck was wrong with him?

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Tilda responded and patted Sean's hand. "Sean is one of the most generous, compassionate men I know."

*******

Sean had to laugh. "You should see me stroll across the lake." Tilda chuckled, but Elijah looked more ill at ease than anything. Sean figured he'd better take things in hand. "We'll bring in your stuff for you, Til. The fridge ought to be cooling down by now, and there are cold drinks here in the cooler if you need something."

Tilda caught his eye with a small, knowing smile. "Bring the kitchen things first, please." She went on inside, and Elijah seemed to breathe a little easier.

Sean gave the boy a commiserating look as they headed down the steps. "She really doesn't mean to fluster you, Elijah."

Elijah shook his head with a groan. "She must think I'm nuts."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I was babbling."

Sean tried to resist putting an arm around his shoulders, but couldn't. Elijah seemed all right with it. "She likes you, Elijah. Til's not the judging type." Not that she wouldn't give you her opinion if it was warranted. "If you're doing something really stupid though, she will tell you."

Elijah sighed, "Great."

Sean gently steered him toward the car. "Hey, I'm kidding." Sort of. "I thought you and Til would really hit it off, Elijah. Til was a professional photographer, did I say?" The boy raised an eyebrow, interested? "But if you'd rather not stay, I'll drive you home right now. No problem."

Elijah half-shrugged. "No. You don't have to do that, Sean. She's all right. I'm just nervous, I guess."

Sean told him he really didn't need to be, but he'd have to find that out for himself. Sean pulled out boxes of dishes and utensils and several bags of food, and gave Elijah the lighter ones to carry. They made a few trips just supplying the kitchen, where Tilda was busily wiping down all the surfaces, cheerfully humming while she worked. He brought in her cooler at last, which weighed a near ton, it felt like.

"How did you get this into the car, Til?!"

She gave Sean an amused smile. "Do you think I couldn't?" She laughed, dropping her towel by the sink, and came to unpack it. "No dear, you're right, I'm not up to that sort of thing anymore. Polly and Deidre helped me pack. I couldn't have gotten away so quickly on my own."

Sean set the cooler down by the refrigerator with a heavy thunk. "It feels like you're planning to eat well."

"I plan to have company. I hope you and Elijah will join me now and then for a meal." She looked around as Elijah came in with a couple more bags. "You can just put those on the table, Elijah, thank you. How would you like to help me with the lemonade?"

Sean was going to offer himself for the task, but Elijah met Tilda's smiling gaze with a brave look and said, "Sure."

Tilda said, "Wonderful. First you can help me here." She opened the cooler and Elijah came to hand her things out of it.

Sean stepped back. "I'll go ahead and finish unpacking the car then. I'll be close by, if you need anything." Elijah glanced back at him in acknowledgment. Tilda just smiled.

********

Despite how determined he was that Tilda should like him, now that he was alone with her, Elijah felt awkward and wished Sean had stayed with them instead of going back outside to finish the unpacking. While he didn't really want to talk, the silence made Elijah nervous, so in an attempt to fill the dead air with some kind of sound, he asked, "Did you enjoy your trip, Miss Keeler?"

Tilda turned from the sink where she'd just finished washing her hands. Elijah saw that she had removed her hat, and was now wearing a terrycloth apron tied around her waist. Drying her wet hands on the front of the apron, she said, "I told you, dear, there's no need to be so formal."

"I know, it's just that..."

Tilda saved him having to finish the sentence. "You thought you should address me as _Miss_ because of my advanced age."

Elijah hadn't said anything about her age, but fuck, it wasn't like she didn't know she was old. He'd just tried to be polite, but now he wished he hadn't said anything at all because there was no way he was going to get out of this without insulting her. So he just opted for the truth. "My Mom always taught us to respect our elders."

"Who is _us_ ?" she asked.

"My brother and sister and me."

"It sounds like your mother brought you up well. I'm sure she's very pleased with how you turned out."

"I hope she would be," Elijah answered, and suddenly there it was, that familiar little hitch in his heart as he thought of his mother. "She died when I was fifteen."

Tilda looked....Elijah wasn't sure what. Sympathetic? Genuinely sorry for his loss? Embarrassed that she'd brought up his mother? Her face was difficult to read, then it softened as she came to the table and lay her hand on his. "It's terrible to lose a parent at such a young age," she told him. "I'm very sorry, dear."

Elijah managed the barest trace of a smile. "Thank you."

Tilda was apparently not one to dwell on things because she immediately changed the subject and asked, "You've made lemonade before?"

"Sure."

While he and Sean had carried in everything else, Tilda had brought a huge tote bag with her and insisted on carrying it inside herself, depositing it on one of the kitchen chairs. She rummaged through it now, bringing out a plastic bag full of lemons and handing it to him. "Good," she told him, "then you can get started with these."

Elijah looked down at the bag. "Ma'am?" he asked.

"Please, dear," Tilda said, "while I approve of your fine upbringing, your calling me Ma'am makes me feel positively decrepit. Please call me Tilda, or if you like, Til."

Elijah wanted to tell her that being called _dear_ made him feel like a girl, but held his tongue. "Okay." Sean always referred to her as Til, so Elijah decided he'd do the same. He tried it out. "Til."

"Much better." She gave him an inquiring look. "Is there a problem?" she asked. "You said you'd made lemonade before."

"Yeah," Elijah said defensively, "opening a can of frozen concentrate and mixing it with water."

"You've never had real lemonade?" Tilda looked shocked. "My poor boy, you _have_ been deprived."

It wasn't really an insult, yet it felt like one to Elijah. "What's the big deal?" he asked, sounding more annoyed than he meant to. "There's nothing wrong with frozen."

Tilda shook her head. "Please forgive me," she said, taking the bag from him. "The proper British way of doing things was drummed into me from a very early age, and has never allowed me to indulge in the shortcuts you Americans are so fond of. Would you believe that even after living here all these years, I still find myself becoming incensed whenever I see a tea bag?"

Elijah had to laugh at that. "So you always make lemonade with fresh lemons?"

"I do indeed." Tilda took the lemons out of the bag, then opened one of the boxes Sean had brought in and put on the counter. From it she brought out a cutting board and a knife and put them on the table beside the fruit. "Just cut these in half so we can get the juice out of them," she instructed.

Pedar's kitchen had been equipped with dozens of gadgets, and Elijah was sure there must have been one made to get juice out of a lemon. He looked around the kitchen, hoping to see something he recognized, and when he didn't, asked, "Where's your machine?"

"Machine?"

"You know, to get the juice out of the lemon?"

Tilda's penetrating look told him that she considered using any such machine to be another American shortcut. She reached back into the same box, and this time brought out a small, shallow green dish. Since it had a handle and a spout, Elijah would have thought it was a pitcher, but it had a two-inch cone rising out of the middle of it.

"Before electric juicers, blenders, food processors and other such devices," Tilda told him, "we used to do the work ourselves." She cut one of the lemons in half, then proceeded to demonstrate, pushing the cut end of the fruit against the tip of the cone and turning it in a clockwise motion. The escaping juice ran down the sides of the cone into the well surrounding it. "It takes a bit more effort, but I find great satisfaction in doing some things the old-fashioned way." Tilda pointed to the small, raised nibs at the base of the cone. "These catch the seeds and the pulp," she explained, "so when you pour, all you get is the juice."

"I've never seen one of these before," Elijah told her. "It's simple, but it gets the job done. It looks very old. Is it?"

Tilda smiled at his reaction to the juicer. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's probably older than both you and Sean put together." She went back to the counter and opened another box. "Now you do the rest while I prepare the sugar syrup."

From the second box she took out a small saucepan and a long wooden spoon, and from one of the grocery bags Elijah had carried in, a five-pound bag of sugar. Elijah watched as she put sugar in the pan, added water from the tap and mixed them together, then put the pan on the top of the stove, lighting a low flame under it.

Elijah didn't realize so much went into making _real_ lemonade, but he set to work, glad to have something to do with his hands. They worked quietly, Elijah at the table and Tilda at the stove. For several minutes there was no sound in the kitchen but the sizzling of the pot and the sound of the spoon touching its sides as Tilda stirred the contents. Finally, just to break the silence, Elijah said, "Sean says you're a professional photographer."

"I was," Tilda replied with her back to him.

"That's so cool," Elijah said enthusiastically.

Tilda looked back over her shoulder at him. "Cool is good, is it?" she asked.

She'd been wearing a slight smile when she said it, which made Elijah wonder if she wasn't entirely serious, but since he couldn't be sure, he replied, "Cool is very good. So...you don't do it anymore?"

Tilda shook her head. "I'll never stop taking pictures, but it's mostly a hobby now. Are you interested in photography?"

"Yeah, big time," Elijah told her. "Sean's been letting me use his camera and I've been going kind of crazy with it."

"That's wonderful. Perhaps you'll show me your photos some time?"

Elijah hadn't been expecting that, and it had him feeling equal parts excited and apprehensive. "Yeah, I guess...sure," he answered, though he wasn't at all sure. The woman was a professional photographer. She'd probably take one look at his pictures and dismiss them as simple and childish. "I have them all loaded on Sean's laptop."

Tilda turned off the flame and left the pot on the stove to cool. "You use a digital camera?" she asked.

The question surprised him. "What else is there?"

"I imagine it would seem that way to someone your age, Elijah," Tilda said, coming back to sit at the table with him. "You're what, twenty?" she questioned.

"Twenty-two," Elijah corrected her.

"Twenty-two then," Tilda amended. "People of your age welcome new technology, they embrace it, but you should remember that some of the greatest photographs of the 20th Century were taken with film, and the prints produced by developing negatives in a darkroom. It's still the method I prefer."

"Sure, but it wasn't like you had a choice. Film was all there was when you started out. It was such a long time ago...." Elijah's voice trailed off and he sighed. All hopes of his making a good first impression were probably shot to hell now. Fuck it all. "Look, I'm really sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to say you were old..."

Tilda just waved it away. "There's no need to apologize, Elijah. I'm not sensitive about my age. I _am_ old. I can't pretend otherwise, and I wouldn't want to try. You're still very young, but as you get older, the fact that time doesn't stand still for any of us will have real meaning for you."

It already had real meaning for Elijah. He thought of his mother again, and of Daniel, but pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. This wasn't the time to dwell on the alternative to growing old.

"I bet if you tried a digital camera, you'd never want to use anything else," Elijah told Tilda. "I brought Sean's camera with me, so I could show you how it works. Would you mind if I took your picture?"

"That would be lovely."

"Great," Elijah said, thrilled at the idea of helping to bring Tilda into the 21st Century. "I left the camera out on the porch." He stood up. "I'll go get it and then I'll—"

Tilda put her hand on his arm. "There's no need, dear. Why don't you use mine instead?"

When she reached back into the tote bag, Elijah sighed. Sean had told him that Tilda still had a sharp mind, but now he realized that opinion was more wishful thinking on Sean's part than fact. "But I wanted you to try the digital—" he began, then stopped short, mouth agape when he saw what she held in her hands. "That's the EOS-1Ds Mark III!"

Tilda nodded. "I take it you've used one before?" she asked.

"Yeah right," Elijah snorted. "In my dreams. This thing costs $8,000!"

Pedar had insisted that everything he bought for Elijah be the very best, but even Pedar hadn't spent such an extravagant amount on the camera he'd given him.

"It _is_ pricey," Tilda agreed, "but like the juicer, it gets the job done."

"I'll say," Elijah said, still eyeing the camera with undisguised envy. "Twenty-one megapixels, a five FPS shooting rate. It's fucking awesome!" He grimaced at the slip. And he'd been doing such a good job of watching his language around her. "Sorry, Til," he apologized.

"That's all right, dear." Tilda gave him a wry smile then whispered conspiratorially, "I had the same reaction the first time I saw it."

Elijah smiled back, but then his expression changed to one of puzzlement. "But I don't understand," he said. "You told me you only used film."

Tilda shook her head. "What I said is that film is the method I prefer. I find the darkroom to be the best place to think, so occasionally when I have a problem I need to work out, I shoot with film and prepare the photographs from my negatives. I find the isolation to be very helpful when I'm trying to gather my thoughts."

"Then you did use a digital in your professional work?"

"Of course, Elijah. One must move with the times or be left behind."

"I never thought I'd see one of these except in a photography magazine," Elijah said. "Would it be okay if I...ah..." He felt foolish for even thinking it, much less asking Tilda if he could.

"What is it, Elijah?"

Elijah took a deep breath and just said it. "Would it be all right if I checked it out? I promise I won't drop it." Despite his assurances that he wouldn't, Elijah imagined himself doing just that, and pictured himself working for the next ten years to pay for it.

"You're going to do more than _check it out_, dear," Tilda said, holding the camera out to him. "You're going to take my picture with it."

"You're--you're going to let me use it?" Elijah asked incredulously.

"Of course," Tilda told him. "What fun would looking at it be if you didn't get a chance to take it for a spin? Now go on, take it."

Elijah's hands were shaking when he accepted the camera from Tilda, but thought he did a good job of hiding it from her. He needed time to familiarize himself with the controls, and Tilda waited patiently until he felt he was ready. When he was, he asked her, "Do you want to sit or stand for the picture?"

"That's up to you, Elijah. You're the one taking the picture."

Elijah nodded. "Right." He considered for a few seconds, then made his decision. "Sitting." Moving the juicer, the cutting board and several of the lemon halves around on the table, he framed her with them, then got up from the table. When he'd set up the shot to his satisfaction, Elijah took the picture, then handed the camera back to Tilda, breathing easily again only once it was safely back in her hands.

Tilda brought up the photo on the view screen and told him, "This is very nice, Elijah. Good composition, excellent lighting. I think you have the makings of a fine photographer."

"Really?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

"Thanks, Til," Elijah told her, feeling incredibly proud of her assessment of his work. "Thanks a lot."

"You're very welcome."

Elijah kept his eyes on the camera until Tilda had returned it to her tote bag, then sat down across from her again. "You never told me what kinds of pictures you used to take," he realized. "Did you work for a newspaper or a magazine?"

"No," Tilda replied. "I've never been much for regimentation, just couldn't deal with working on someone else's schedule. I guess you could say I was somewhat of a free spirit in my youth." She raised her eyebrows inquiringly. "Do they still use that expression?"

"I think they do," Elijah told her. "So you were a stringer?" At her puzzled look he said, "Somehow who works free-lance and sells their stuff to different places."

Tilda repeated the word. "Stringer. I'll have to remember that. No, I wasn't a stringer, at least not if I understand its meaning correctly."

"Did you always want to be a photographer?" Elijah asked.

Tilda shook her head. "Not really. I suppose you could say it was a happy accident."

"How do you mean?"

"Our family lived in London during the blitz," Tilda began. "Do you know what that is?"

Elijah nodded. "The bombings during World War II. I've seen lots of movies about it."

"So have I," Tilda said, "but no one can ever capture on film what it was really like. Still, I was lucky. I was one of the lucky children who was evacuated from the city. Most children were sent to live with strangers, but I had a Great Uncle who lived in the country, so my older brother and I were sent away to stay with him."

Elijah supposed that her brother had been Daniel's father, but didn't want to interrupt her story by asking her. Instead he said, "So you were like those kids in that movie, _The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe_?"

Tilda cocked her head. "Hmmm. It's obvious, Elijah, that a great deal of your knowledge of history comes from the cinema."

Elijah thought he heard a hint of disapproval in her voice. She was probably a big reader like Sean. "I guess maybe it does," he admitted, then brought the subject back around to her. "What happened when you left London?"

"I was only six at the time, and I thought it was all a great adventure. We'd never met our Uncle Frank, but I liked him right away. He was a bachelor, but unlike some older men who never marry, he liked children, and was very excited at our coming to stay with him. Frank lived in a very secluded area, much like this, and he used to take us on long walks through the woods, teaching us about the plants and the wildlife."

The way Sean had done with him.

"My brother Robert hated it," Tilda went on, "but I loved it. Robert eventually refused to go out with us, preferring to stay in the house and sulk, so after that, Uncle Frank and I always went on our outings alone. Frank was an amateur photographer, and he enjoyed teaching me how to use his camera. I guess you could say I fell in love with nature and photography at the same time."

"How long did you and your brother stay in the country?"

Tilda looked toward the door, as if she wasn't sure of the answer and needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Elijah knew it had to have been over sixty years ago. Maybe too much time had passed for her to remember. Then a faraway look came into Tilda's eyes that made Elijah think that wasn't the case. Looking at her face, he would have bet that Tilda remembered it all, and was probably reliving it right now.

"Almost four years," she answered, turning back to him after a moment, "and I still remember them as some of the happiest of my life. In 1945, when it was deemed safe again, we returned to London, but if I could have, I would have stayed with Uncle Frank forever. He knew how much I loved using his camera, so he gifted me with it, said he wanted me to have something to remember him by."

"And that's when you decided to become a photographer?"

Tilda pushed back from the table. "I think we've talked enough about me. We're supposed to be making lemonade." At Elijah's downcast expression she said, "I'll tell you more later if you like, but right now, you need to juice the rest of those lemons."

Elijah had been so interested in Tilda's story that he'd stopped his work on the lemons, and now returned to the job. "Done," he announced when he'd finished. "What do we do next?"

Tilda returned to the boxes on the counter and took out a tall yellow pitcher, which she proceeded to fill with water. Then she emptied the mixture from the saucepan into it and brought it to the table. "Pour the juice in here," she directed him. After Elijah had done it, she gave the contents several vigorous stirs with the wooden spoon. "Now it goes into the refrigerator to cool," she explained. "I'd say fifteen minutes should be sufficient." Elijah licked his lips in anticipation, which made Tilda smile. After putting the pitcher into the fridge, she came back to the table. "I'd say turnabout is fair play," she said as she sat down again.

"Huh?"

"I've told you some of my story, so I think it's only fair you tell me some of yours."

Elijah felt his stomach tighten again. He was a guest in Tilda's house, and refusing to answer would not only be bad manners, but his rudeness would be embarrassing to Sean. So he resigned himself to answering her questions, hoping she wouldn't ask anything too personal. There was something about the look in her eyes that made Elijah feel as if she already knew everything about him anyway, without having to ask. "All right," he said cautiously.

His apprehension must have shown on his face because Tilda patted his hand and said, "Don't worry, dear, I'm not going to ask you to reveal any deep, dark secrets."

Elijah attempted to laugh it off and hoped he sounded convincing. "That's good. Because I don't have any."

Tilda didn't look as if she believed him, but she didn't press the point. "Sean says you broke down on his lane. Both this place and his are quite a ways off the beaten path. However did you find it?"

"I didn't, not exactly. I just got lost."

"I would say so," she agreed. "Where were you on your way to?"

"Nowhere in particular," Elijah told her. Which wasn't really a lie.

"It sounds as if you're a bit of a free spirit yourself."

"Not much of one," he said. "All I know is, I was really lucky I wound up at Sean's place." Elijah's mind flashed back to waking up at Sean's kitchen table, remembering the man's immediate concern and his incredible kindness. "I don't think anyone else would have done for a stranger what Sean did. I don't know what would have happened to me if I'd ended up somewhere else instead of there."

Tilda pursed her lips, seeming to consider that. "Another happy accident?" she asked.

Elijah shrugged in response. "I guess."

********

Sean found himself standing at the bottom of the stair outside the kitchen, listening to them talk. It warmed his heart to hear Elijah express such sentiments toward him, even if it was based on gratitude. He was as lucky as Elijah, to have been in the right place at the right time. A happy accident? Absolutely happy. If Elijah went away tomorrow and nothing more ever came of it, it would still be worth it to him, Sean was sure.

Elijah sounded like he was managing all right. Sean pushed himself on, up and around the steps to the loft, with a last box that was weighty for its size, sealed and marked as storage. The loft was hot, and heavy with shadows, the many windows all closed up tight and shuttered to keep out the sun. He set the box down with several others that were already stacked against one wall, then opened a few of the windows to get some air flowing through.

Tilda had used that space as a studio in her working days, and even had a darkroom of sorts set up at one end. It was mostly bare and empty now though, just a place to store things. Sean headed back down the stair. He still needed to bring in the firewood he'd split earlier, but there was plenty of time for that. He stopped at the kitchen and looked in. They were sitting at the table together, Tilda talking and Elijah listening, off on yet another topic. Sean hoped Elijah wasn't bored or put off. In more than ten years, Tilda's stories had never bored him. Daniel had loved her dearly.

Sean smiled, stepping into the room, dusting his hands on his jeans. "Everything's in, Til. I opened some windows upstairs, so you'll know to close them if it rains." Ha. "On the unlikely chance." Elijah caught his eye with a welcoming smile.

Tilda gave him an affectionate look. "Thank you, Sean. It's good to be here after so long away, and I couldn't easily come any longer without your help. The rain will come eventually."

It would, Sean knew. "On the bright side, we've had hardly any mosquitoes this summer."

"Now, that's something to celebrate," Tilda said, pushing herself up from the table. "Let's ice down this lemonade and sit out on the porch, shall we?"

Excellent idea. Sean helped her find the box with the glasses, while Elijah brought the pitcher from the fridge. They had a bag of ice in their cooler on the porch, and filled their glasses there before settling into the wicker chairs to gaze at the lake. There was an easy breeze out of the west, enough to make the heat bearable, and Tilda's fresh lemonade hit the spot. For Sean, it was turning into a great day.


	20. Chapter 20

It was mesmerizing the way the late afternoon sunlight sparkled on the lake, and Sean began to feel in danger of falling asleep. They'd talked for a while about what was going on in the world, Tilda bringing Sean up to speed, and she had talked with Elijah about the difficulties and rewards of photographing nature. Elijah had seemed to sincerely enjoy the conversation, though he mostly listened. Tilda had fallen silent eventually, no doubt succumbing to the relentless peacefulness of the place. A drone of distant katydids lullingly filled the quiet with soft noise. Sean stifled a yawn, and roused himself to turn his head. Elijah looked comfortable, with his eyes closed and the faintest of smiles on his lips. Turning his head the other way, Sean found Tilda watching him.

"You know, Sean, you're to have this place when I'm gone. I wouldn't trust it to anyone else."

It was out of the blue but not a surprise, though Sean was deeply touched. He was saddened too, to actually think of her gone. "That's far in the future, Til."

Tilda breathed a satisfied sigh. "Yes, dear. I've no immediate plans to depart."

Sean nodded, relieved. "I'm glad to hear it." He set down his lemonade glass and sat himself more upright in his chair. Elijah glanced over at him expectantly. Tilda had her watch on, but he didn't ask. He could guess it was around five. "I noticed you brought charcoal, Til. Should I see to the barbecue? Or did you have something else in mind?"

"The barbecue will do fine, Sean, thank you. Are you keeping a garden this year? I've been craving your home-grown, vine-ripened tomatoes."

Sean should have thought to bring some. "Tomorrow," he smiled. "And we have a watermelon just about ready." It only occurred to him after it was out of his mouth that he'd said we. Not that it really mattered. Did it? Tilda just gave him a smile. He pushed himself to his feet.

Elijah moved to get up. "I'll help you."

Sean waved him back. "There's no need, Elijah. It's a one-man job, and messy. I'll be quick about it." Tilda said he could help her with the menu, and Elijah seemed agreeable to that. Sean left them to it.

*******

"How very fortunate I am," Tilda announced when they were alone. "I expected to be spending my evening with one handsome man, and now I'll be enjoying the company of two."

Elijah wasn't sure how to respond to that. When he just sat there, Tilda continued.

"With this heat, I thought a cold plate would be best, but since you've both been working so hard to get things ready for my arrival, I think you deserve a nice _manly_ dinner. How does steak and baked potatoes sound?"

"It sounds great."

"We'll have a nice salad, too. I love fresh greens, don't you?"

"I didn't always," Elijah admitted, "but I've been eating a lot better since I've been at Sean's. I ate mostly junk food before, but he's making me eat healthier. He even makes bread with zucchini in it."

"I know," Tilda said, "it's his mother's recipe."

"Really?" Elijah asked. "Sean didn't tell me that. When he told me he was making zucchini bread, it sounded pretty weird. I was sure I wouldn't like it, didn't even want to try it. But then Sean said I couldn't know if I liked it or not without tasting it first. So I tried a piece and Sean was right. It was great. I even asked him to make it again because I liked it so much."

"I'm not surprised," Tilda told him. "I was totally taken with it the first time I tasted it. And frankly, quite jealous."

"Jealous?" Elijah questioned. "Why?"

"It was pure vanity," Tilda confessed. "I consider myself an excellent baker, but when I tasted Anna's zucchini bread, it was better than anything _I'd_ ever made, so I just had to ask Sean for the recipe. It was the first time in my life I'd ever liked anyone else's cooking enough to do that."

Elijah smiled. "Sean's Mom must have been pleased."

"I believe she was. If I remember correctly, Sean said it 'made her day'."

"And I'll bet that made Sean's day."

"I'm sure you're right. Sean has great affection for both his parents. Did he tell you he grew up on a farm?"

Elijah nodded. "Sean's told me everything about himself."

"Then you know about our Daniel."

"Yes."

"I must say I'm surprised Sean was so forthcoming. He's always guarded his privacy."

"He didn't tell me right away," Elijah amended. And probably wouldn't have if Elijah hadn't seen Sean's photo on his book jacket and discovered the truth. "But with me staying here, we've spent a lot of time talking. There isn't much else to do."

Tilda studied him thoughtfully. "I'm surprised about that, too. Not that Sean would help you, but that he felt comfortable enough to have you stay here. Since Daniel's death, he's become somewhat of a recluse."

Elijah shrugged. "I don't think he expected I'd be here for more than a day, but it's taking them a while to get the parts for the car. Plus I was kind of out of it when I first got here, had a fever, so Sean thought I'd be better off staying put."

"And I'm sure it was good for him to share the company of another gay man again."

It had come out so easily, so simply that at first Elijah thought he'd misunderstood Tilda's words. "How--I never said--" he stammered.

Tilda frowned. "I'm sorry, dear," she said kindly. "That wasn't very tactful of me, was it?" When Elijah said nothing she asked, "Then again, perhaps I'm wrong?"

Elijah bit his bottom lip. "You're not wrong," he said. "I am gay. You just surprised me. I didn't expect you to come right out with it."

Tilda smiled. "When I have something on my mind, I find it's easier and more efficient to get to the point rather than pussyfooting around. I suppose I feel that at my age, I've earned the privilege. You don't mind, do you, Elijah?"

Elijah shook his head. "No, it's okay, but...how did you know? Did Sean...?"

"No, Sean didn't tell me. He wouldn't betray a confidence, even if I asked him to."

"Then how?"

Tilda chuckled. "Well I assure you I'm not psychic, and I don't have--what is it you young people call it?--gaydar. It just made sense." At Elijah's puzzled expression she went on. "As much as Sean values his privacy, he's very comfortable with who he is, so I would expect him to tell you about himself, about his sexuality. As for you, while I keep hoping the world will change and people will accept others for who they are, I'm not naive enough to believe it will ever happen. If you _were_ a straight man, you most likely wouldn't have accepted his invitation to stay."

When the tables had been turned, when Elijah had thought Sean was straight, he'd wondered why Sean had been so comfortable inviting a gay man to stay with him, so Tilda's explanation did make sense. "Sean knew about me before I knew about him," Elijah explained. "I wasn't even going to tell Sean because I thought he was straight, but it just came out. I didn't find out about him until a few days later."

"Sean didn't tell you he was gay even after you'd come out to him?" Tilda asked in obvious surprise.

"He thought it would make me feel uncomfortable."

"Why on earth would he think that?"

Elijah twisted the rose beads on his wrist. "It's complicated."

"And none of my business," Tilda said quietly. They were still sitting in the same places as before, but it felt to Elijah as if Tilda had physically pulled away from him. "One of the follies of old age is that you begin to believe you actually have the right to ask everyone their private business. I'm sorry, Elijah. I promise to stop prying."

"No, Til, it's not you," Elijah said quickly. "It's just still hard for me to talk about it. It took a while before I was even able to tell Sean."

Tilda nodded, and Elijah felt the sudden tension between them ease. "I understand, dear."

Elijah wondered if Tilda _could_ understand. Could anyone who hadn't been through it? He wasn't even sure Sean understood, even though he had accepted Elijah's story and hadn't passed judgment on him for staying with Pedar.

"Sean says you supported his being with Daniel from the beginning, even when the rest of your family was against it."

"I did," Tilda confirmed. "It was obvious to me that Sean was a fine young man, and that he truly cared for Daniel. Do you have the support of your family, Elijah?"

Elijah shook his head. "Not really. Well, my sister Hannah's okay with it, and my Mom would have been. I never got to tell her I was gay, but I think she already knew."

"And your father?"

"No way. He thought it was a sin against God, thought he could beat it out of me."

"I'm so sorry."

Elijah shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Once I left home, we didn't have any contact, still don't."

"It was much the same with Daniel and his father. My brother was a stern, unyielding man."

"Lucky for Daniel you're nothing like him."

Tilda smiled. "Thank you, dear. That's a very sweet thing for you to say."

"It's true," Elijah said, feeling his face grow warm. "I guess it's because you accepted Daniel and Sean, but telling you about myself isn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"I'm glad, but I believe I can make it even easier for you, Elijah."

"Easier?" Elijah repeated, puzzled. "How can you make it easier?"

Tilda glanced over at the roses. To Elijah, she looked lost in some memory of her own, the way she had when she'd spoken about her time in the country during the war.

"I suppose you think I'm a spinster," she said softly, "Daniel's maiden Aunt Tilda."

Elijah felt a little uncomfortable, but it was what he'd thought, since Sean hadn't mentioned anything about her being married or a widow. "I guess so," he said.

"Well it's partially true," Tilda said, turning back to face him. "I was never married, at least not in the traditional sense, but I lived with someone for thirty years, someone I loved very much. Her name was Mary."

Elijah stared at her, wide-eyed. "You-you're gay?"

Tilda nodded. "Are you surprised?"

"Fuck yeah," Elijah said, too shocked to remember to apologize for his language.

Tilda chuckled. "You shouldn't be. Your generation didn't invent homosexuality, you know."

That made Elijah smile. "I know, it's just..."

"You never expected someone my age to be a sexual being."

Elijah had been thinking that very thing--how was Tilda able to do that?--but he didn't say so. Instead, he asked, "You're not together now?"

"No. I lost my beloved twelve years ago."

"I'm sorry," he told her. "You lost someone, so you know what Sean's going through."

"Sadly, I do, but I'm luckier than most. I have thirty years of memories." Tilda gave Elijah another of those looks that made him feel as if she could read his deepest thoughts. "Do you have someone special in your life, Elijah?" she asked. When he didn't answer right away she said, "Young people become sexually active at a much younger age now than they did when I was a girl, so I don't suppose you're still a virgin."

Elijah snorted. "Not hardly."

"Still, at your age you can't have had many serious relationships."

"I had a lover," Elijah told her. "We were together for three years, from the time I was nineteen."

"Goodness, that _is_ young. Were you both the same age?"

Elijah shook his head. "He was older than me, a lot older." He looked away before adding, "He was the first guy I ever had sex with."

"And was he the one who ended things?"

"No, I did. I left him because..." Elijah took a deep breath. "...because he used to hit me."

Tilda reached over to lay her hand over his. "Then you did the right thing by leaving."

"I should have left the first time it happened, but I thought maybe he would change." He hesitated. "And because I..."

"Because you loved him," Tilda finished for him.

"I guess you think that's stupid," Elijah said defensively.

"Not at all, Elijah. We all want to think the best of someone we love. When we first met, Mary was married to a man who abused her, and she stayed with him far longer than she should have because she felt what he was doing to her was her fault, that she somehow deserved it. When she finally realized that she didn't deserve her husband's treatment of her, that he was just taking out his own inadequacies on her, she left him."

"And moved in with you?"

Tilda smiled. "Yes, but only as a refuge from James at first. I was already in love with Mary, but had resigned myself to the fact that she could never offer me anything but friendship. Then one night she confessed she felt more for me, that she loved me, and I thought my heart would burst with happiness. It's a rare thing to find one's soulmate, but Mary was mine. Once we were together, we never spent a night apart until the day she died."

"Sean and Daniel should have had that same kind of life together."

Tilda sighed. "Yes, they deserved that happiness, but fate intervened. Still, I'm glad to see that Sean is moving on with his life. It's what Daniel would have wanted."

******

The barbecue was a built-in stone firepit with a gridiron over it, set into a little patio nook on the upward slope off the kitchen, and the charcoal was a special hickory hardwood, probably pretty pricey. While a chimney-full heated to ashy coals, Sean cleaned the grill and then finished with the firewood, carrying a few bundles in to stash by the hearth. He could hear Tilda and Elijah quietly talking through the front door screen as he passed through, but couldn't really hear what was being said. They looked alternately serious and amused when he glanced out there. It looked like they'd hit it off. That was a happy thing.

Sean washed his hands outside at the well pump when he was finished, and then re-joined them on the front porch. "The grill's ready."

Tilda got herself up. "Oh dear, we've been sitting here chatting while you were at work. But steaks will be quick to prepare." She moved to gather up the lemonade glasses and Sean had to hustle to beat her to it.

Elijah picked up his own glass and followed along inside to the kitchen. "Are you sure you have enough? I mean, you didn't know I'd be here."

Tilda reassured him. "Please don't concern yourself, Elijah. When all that I've brought has been eaten, there is a good butcher a few small towns away. I'm sure we won't starve."

Sean laughed. "If worse comes to worst, I hear squirrel makes good eating."

Elijah looked a little bit appalled. Tilda snickered. "Sean would shoot a hole in his own foot before he would shoot a squirrel, or any other living thing. He doesn't even fish."

It was true, Sean knew. He couldn't deal with the killing and cleaning. "I do willfully swat mosquitoes though."

Elijah met his eyes and caught him completely off guard with a smile so disarmingly bright, so openly affectionate, it caused a hitch in his breath.

Sean covered the lapse well, he thought, giving Elijah a happy smile in return and offering a hand to Tilda. She needed the foil, she said, for the potatoes. Sean found it in a partially unpacked bag, with the olive oil and the spice box. She said the potatoes would take too long to cook left whole, so she sliced and laid them out in foil packets, with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper and a drizzle of oil. The steaks only needed a plate and a pair of tongs. She re-filled Sean's lemonade glass and sent him out to do the cooking. Elijah stayed in and helped her put together a salad.

With the potatoes on the grill, Sean sat on the stone half-wall with his drink, listening to them at work in the kitchen and thinking with a small pang how very familiar it felt. From long habit, he asked out loud, "Is it all right, Daniel? Are you at peace?"

There was no answer, not from Daniel and not from the place deep inside that was still mourning. Daniel's voice had grown silent. Sean supposed that was his answer.


	21. Chapter 21

Elijah refused the second piece of apple pie Tilda tried to tempt him with. "It was great, Til, but I'm stuffed."

Tilda frowned. "You're not one of those young people who's always on a diet are you?" she asked suspiciously.

Elijah looked at her in disbelief. He'd just eaten steak and potatoes, a big dish of salad, then topped the meal off with apple pie a la mode for dessert. How could she possibly think he was watching his weight? "I'm not on a diet, Til," he assured her, "just full."

Tilda didn't look convinced. "You could use more meat on your bones, Elijah," she told him, then decided it required a second opinion. "What do you think, Sean?"

Sean seemed surprised to have been asked his opinion. To Elijah he looked embarrassed that he'd been invited into the discussion at all. "It's not for me to say, Til," he told her, "but I can testify that Elijah's definitely not on a diet. He eats chocolate for breakfast!"

"I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself," Tilda confessed, giving in gracefully, or as gracefully as Elijah assumed she was capable of doing. "The pie will be here, Elijah, if you change your mind."

"Thanks, Til." Elijah stood up and announced, "Sean cooked, so I'm doing the dishes."

"You'll do no such thing," Tilda admonished him. "You're my guest."

"But I want to help," Elijah insisted. "Sean did more than his share of the work today, and now it's my turn. I don't mind, Til, really I don't."

"It's too nice an evening to be stuck in the kitchen," Tilda said. "Clean-up can wait until the morning, but if you insist, you can bring the dishes inside and stack them in the sink. But you're to do nothing more with them, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Elijah gave in. He began gathering the dishes, but when Sean rose to help, Elijah told him, "I can manage on my own, Sean." Sean sighed and sat back down.

Elijah was pleased to find that although he hadn't been one for several years, he hadn't lost his skill as a busboy. It took him only two trips to completely clear the table. After he placed the second load in the sink, he added dish soap and water to them so they could soak. He told himself he wasn't really disobeying Tilda's orders, just leaving her with a little less work for the morning.

As he was heading back outside to rejoin them, Elijah paused at the screen door, standing there a moment and just watching Sean and Tilda. Sean said they hadn't spoken since Daniel's death, yet there was no sign of any strain caused by their separation. Seeing them together made Elijah smile. They had no blood ties. There was no shared DNA to connect them biologically, but they were family just the same. Elijah could see it in the way Sean looked at her. There was no disguising the affection he felt for her, and it was obvious that Tilda cared for him just as much. _They say you can't choose your family_, Elijah thought, but he knew damn well that you could. Sean and Tilda were living proof.

Elijah didn't think Sean had stopped smiling since Tilda's arrival. His face was completely animated when he spoke to her, his eyes so bright and full of life. He was totally different from the man Elijah had met only a few short weeks ago, a man whose face had betrayed all the sadness he'd experienced, all the loss. Elijah had been afraid Tilda's visit would be too difficult for Sean, that it would dredge up painful memories that would make him sad again, but being with Tilda seemed to be having the opposite effect.

Much as he had enjoyed being here tonight, Elijah still felt as if he was intruding. Sean and Tilda both had a special connection to Daniel, and Elijah was more than a little envious of the bond they shared. After such a long time apart, shouldn't they be allowed to have their reunion without someone there who hadn't even known Daniel? Determined that Sean and Tilda should have some privacy, Elijah turned around, but before he could step away from the door he heard Tilda's voice.

"Where has Elijah got to?" she was asking. "It doesn't take that long to stack dishes in the sink."

"I'll go find him, Til," Sean offered.

"Thank you, dear."

Elijah quickly moved to the sink so Sean wouldn't know he'd been eavesdropping.

"What are you doing in here?" Sean asked when he saw Elijah there. "If you're washing those dishes, Til will have your head, and probably mine, too."

Elijah raised his hands so Sean could see they were dry. "Don't worry," he said with a smile, "our heads are safe."

"Glad to hear it," Sean replied, "but why haven't you come back outside? Til was wondering what happened to you."

Elijah shrugged. "When Til decided to come for a visit, she was expecting to have you all to herself. I felt bad being in the way of that so I thought I'd give you some time alone."

Sean frowned. "Don't be silly," he said. "I don't think you're in the way and neither does Til. She plans to stay for a while so we'll have plenty of time to catch up." Sean's hand came to rest gently on Elijah's arm. "Til is very pleased you're here, Elijah. Believe me, I can tell." He smiled conspiratorially. "In case you hadn't noticed, she likes you."

"I like her, too."

"Then don't make her think you don't." Sean put his arm around Elijah's shoulders and led him toward the door. "It's finally cooling off a little. Come sit outside with us and enjoy it."

"All right."

Tilda got out of her chair when she saw them coming. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd deserted me."

"Never," Sean assured her.

"Well I wouldn't blame you if you had. Young men like you have better things to do than to spend time with an old woman like me."

Sean smiled. "Now you're just fishing for compliments," he scolded, going to Tilda and placing a kiss on her cheek. "When it comes to a zest for life, Tilda Keeler, you're the most youthful person I know."

Tilda pulled Sean to her and hugged him. "Oh Sean, I have missed you so."

"Then you have to plan on making your stay here a very long one this time."

"There's no reason why I couldn't," she mused. "My time's my own, after all."

"Wonderful," Sean said, "I'm glad that's settled." He looked toward the lake. "Why don't we sit out on the dock and enjoy the sunset? It's the best show in town."

"I think that would be lovely." Tilda offered one arm to Sean, the other to Elijah. "Shall we go?"

Sean had been right, it was the best show in town. Streaks of intense oranges and reds illuminated the sky, making it look like it was on fire. Elijah had a vague memory of one of his high school science teacher explaining that the colors were caused by sunlight scattering off of something in the earth's atmosphere, dirt or soot or who knew what. He hadn't cared enough to listen carefully then, and cared even less now what made such a sight possible. All Elijah knew was that it was beautiful. He wished he'd thought to bring Sean's camera so he could capture it, but wasn't willing to leave in order to get it.

They sat in silence, content just to drink in the sights and sounds surrounding them. Sean had offered to bring a chair down for Tilda, but she had refused, preferring to sit right on the dock beside them, settling in between Sean and Elijah, all three of them dangling their legs off the end of the dock above the calm water.

Because it had cooled down some, Sean worried that Tilda might catch a chill. Would she like him to get her a jacket? Tilda said she was fine and told Sean to stop fussing over her. Sean said he enjoyed fussing over her, and Elijah could see by Tilda's face that she enjoyed hearing it.

Without a watch, Elijah wasn't sure exactly how long they sat there, but Tilda was the first to suggest they go back. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," she said as they helped her to her feet. "Much as I hate to admit it, the trip here tired me out a bit, so I think I'm going to retire with a good book."

"Who's it going to be tonight?" Sean asked.

"Brother Cadfael," Tilda replied.

At Elijah's blank look, Sean explained, "He's a 12th Century Benedictine monk who solves mysteries."

"Quite right," Tilda said. "I find at my age, reading mysteries helps keep the brain sharp, and Ellis Peters is one of the best."

Embarrassed that he'd never heard of the author or the character, Elijah just nodded.

"I'm so glad you wrote to me, Sean," Tilda told him. "I've missed this place."

Sean said, "I should have done it sooner, Til. I'm sorry I didn't."

Tilda touched his arm. "It's foolish to worry about that, Sean. I'm here now and that's all that matters." She turned to Elijah, and this time, she did hug him. "It was lovely to meet you, Elijah. I hope to see a great deal of you during my visit."

"I'd like that," Elijah told her, and found that he not only meant it, but was actually looking forward to the next time he would see her.

******

Sean woke in the early morning to the fan blowing a cool breeze in his face. One chilled bare foot slid over the sheet, seeking warmth, but found none. Elijah was bundled in what sheets there were, curled up and shivering over on his side of the bed. Sean pushed himself up and went to turn off the fan, then quietly got a blanket from the closet and covered Elijah. Dawn coming through the windows told him he wouldn't be getting back to sleep, so he stepped out onto the porch to welcome it.

The sky was gray and mottled with clouds, the cool air crisp and bracing. Sean drew in a good, deep breath of the morning, feeling great. Knowing Tilda's habits, if they hadn't changed, he could surmise she would be getting up in about an hour and wishing she had some fresh tomatoes for her bacon sandwich. Smiling to himself, he trotted down the steps and out to the garden. He chose the ripest, plumpest, most perfect fruits from the vine and took them to find a basket.

It was quiet inside, Elijah still sleeping. Sean practically tip-toed, going as silently as he could, getting a basket and towel to pack the delicate tomatoes for the ride, and a bottle of water for himself from the fridge. He very quietly opened his desk and wrote a note for Elijah so the boy wouldn't worry, waking and finding himself alone. Sean glanced toward the bed, but could see little in the shadows there, a wisp of dark hair against the white pillow. Elijah was snuggled in and comfy. Let him sleep.

Sean had no thought of driving. If there was more time, he would have walked the long way around, but couldn't risk being late for breakfast. The canoe would take him straight across the lake to Tilda's dock in much less time. And the morning couldn't have been more perfect for it. He stopped half way to the lake shore, wanting to go back and wake Elijah, wanting him to join in the fun, but he thankfully knew better. One man's fun wasn't necessarily every man's.

The twilight faded away to reveal a soft, hazy glow of mist over the lake. As he slid the canoe into the water, a heron flew up from just down the bank with an indignant cry. Apologizing, Sean hopped into the canoe and took up a paddle, and quickly left the shore behind. At the outer point he took his bearings and then settled into a steady rhythm, enough to give himself a good warm-up but not so hard he'd land on Tilda's doorstep sweaty and gasping.

Out on the lake, he could see no farther than three or four canoe-lengths in any direction. The fog drifted just beyond reach, making it feel as if he was standing still, wrapped in a cocoon. It would be easy to go off course and never know, but Sean trusted his much practiced skill at paddling, and the fact that he'd done this many times in the past. The cool damp collected in beads on his skin and glistened in the growing brightness, as the sky overhead turned slowly bluer and less gray. By the time he reached Tilda's little cove, the mists were already lifting and he had no trouble making his way. He stroked for the narrow stretch of sandy bank downshore from the dock, and drove the bow of the canoe out of the water, as a hazy sun peeked over the tops of the trees. What faint hope of rain he might have had dissipated with the last of the cloud cover.

*******

Elijah woke up curled inside the bed sheets to find a blanket had been placed over him. Sean had to have done it while he was still asleep. The need for a blanket was a surprise, but a welcome one. Maybe the heat wave had finally ended.

Sean was out of bed already, as usual. Elijah didn't think he'd woken first once since they'd begun sleeping together. It still felt strange thinking of it that way, even if it was technically correct. They were sleeping in the same bed, but sharing only space, nothing more. Last night had been Elijah's best sleep since he'd come to the cabin. He'd showered then crawled into bed, pleasantly tired, and fallen asleep immediately. It was all the fresh air from yesterday, he guessed, that and having his introduction to Tilda over and done with.

Why had he been so anxious about meeting her? Elijah supposed it was because he was afraid Tilda wasn't going to like him, or worse, that he wouldn't like her. Knowing how much she meant to Sean, he had been prepared to pretend he liked Tilda even if he didn't, but happily, he'd liked her very much so he hadn't had to lie.

Elijah didn't have any experience with elderly people, other than those he'd waited on at the restaurant. He'd never known his grandparents and wondered if either of his grandmothers had been like Daniel's aunt. For a moment he allowed himself to fantasize about what his mother would have been like had she lived to that age. He tried to imagine her in her 70's, and while he could picture her physically, he didn't think that Debbie would have acted anything like Tilda.

Tilda herself certainly didn't act anything like Elijah had expected a woman her age to act. She certainly wasn't afraid to speak her mind, and the way she'd seemed to know exactly what he was thinking made him think she was able to read his. Tilda had no problem with asking personal questions either, that was for sure. Elijah didn't think he'd ever known anyone quite so straightforward -- blunt would have been a more accurate description -- but there was a kind and loving heart under the brusque exterior she presented. He could tell that from only the short time he'd spent alone with her.

And it was obvious how much she cared for Sean. How many other women would have kept up a relationship with their nephew's gay lover after that nephew had died? He had been so sure Tilda's visit would hurt Sean, but instead, it seemed to have healed him. Elijah had never seen Sean look happier than he had last night, even happier than he had on their trip to the fair. He wished he had the ability to bring that kind of happiness to someone. It was obvious he hadn't been able to do it for Pedar. Letting his thoughts go there was a mistake and Elijah knew it. Pedar was his past, and his future? Well, he didn't know who that was going to be with, not yet, but he hoped he'd be lucky enough to find someone as wonderful as Sean.

Elijah cocked his head, listening for sounds from the kitchen, but heard none. Where _was_ Sean, anyway?

******

An aroma of coffee and bacon frying greeted Sean as he climbed the overgrown path to the barbecue patio. Tilda was in the kitchen, humming as she bustled around. Sean ran a hand through his damp hair and then rapped on the screen door frame, holding up his basket. "Tomato delivery."

Tilda turned with a big smile. "Good morning, Sean. Just in time. Did you come across the lake?"

Sean pulled open the door and stepped in. "I did. Couldn't resist on such a great morning."

"I stood out on the porch for twenty minutes just looking at it, and didn't even think of getting the camera," she laughed. "I must be getting old."

Sean gave her a warm smile. "Never." He took the tomatoes to the drainboard and found a knife to slice them with, while she added more bacon to the skillet and then sliced the bread, a good bakery-made sourdough loaf, which she proceeded to butter and griddle toast. "You know, Til, it isn't the safest time to be out here. The woods are seriously dry." He knew she valued her independence but, "I worry about you on your own, cut off without any way to get help if you needed it."

Tilda turned a look on him that was at least a little bit frustrated. "I have my cell phone, dear."

"Does it work here?"

"I used it just this morning. I'm afraid civilization encroaches, even here." She looked at him and quietly sighed. "I checked with the forest service, Sean. I know the fire risk is up. You are not made of asbestos yourself, you know."

Sean nodded. "I know. I'm on high alert, keeping a watch out for smoke, just trying to keep it low key. I don't want to alarm Elijah."

Tilda returned her attention to the bacon. "How is Elijah this morning? I'm sorry he didn't come along for breakfast."

Sean said, "He was sleeping and I didn't think he'd appreciate being rousted out early." Sean didn't say that he'd been badly tempted to want to snuggle in with him, next to him, holding him. Damn.

Tilda sounded amused. "I did not get an impression of Elijah as a country boy. Though I think he is tougher than he believes he is."

Sean thought so too. "I think he's beginning to feel better about himself. I think it's been good for him being here."

They put together their sandwiches and Tilda poured them coffee, then they went out to the front porch to sit and watch the lake sparkle.

*******

Sean must be in the garden checking on his plants. And on their watermelon. Elijah considered it to be partly his, which was stupid, he knew, but it pleased him to think of it that way. Glad he'd taken his shower last night, Elijah got dressed as soon as he was out of bed, putting on clean jeans and an old hoodie. He'd probably have to take the sweatshirt off if the heat returned, but wearing it now in the chilly cabin sure felt good. Without it he'd have been tempted to curl up again in the nice, warm cocoon he'd been sleeping in.

Elijah sniffed but didn't smell any coffee, which was weird because Sean always made the coffee as soon as he got up. He shrugged. There was no reason why he couldn't make the coffee this morning. He could make breakfast, too, a real breakfast instead of just Pop-Tarts. Maybe scrambled eggs, one of the few things he knew how to make.

The idea of surprising Sean with breakfast had Elijah feeling excited, but his excitement quickly faded when he went to get the eggs and saw the note stuck under a magnet on the refrigerator door. Sean had gone to bring Tilda her tomatoes. They were going to be having breakfast together...without him.

There was no reason he should feel slighted. Hadn't he said last night that Sean and Tilda should have some time together, just the two of them? Sean had every right to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He didn't require Elijah's permission, didn't even have to let Elijah know he was going out. But understanding that in his head didn't stop him feeling hurt that he'd been excluded from the visit.

Elijah took a giant mental step backward. He was starting to feel too fucking comfortable here at the cabin. It wasn't his home. Sean was letting him stay here because he had nowhere else to go. He was just a guest and he needed to keep reminding himself of that.

******

"It isn't really much of a story, Til. I was out picking up supplies and came back to find his broken down car blocking the lane, and him asleep at the table. He had a fever, so I put him to bed and took care of him." Tilda nodded, like that was understood. Sean sighed. "I can't say why, but he was in need of refuge, and refuge is what I have."

"He told me about the man he left."

That surprised Sean. "Did he?" Then again, Tilda had a way of eliciting trust.

"Oh, not in detail, but I understand the man was abusive," she said through grit teeth, then reached over and patted Sean's hand. "The lad couldn't have come to a better place, Sean."

Sean said, "I'm glad I could help him." More than glad. "He helped me too." He looked at her directly. "I wasn't doing so well, Til, not very long ago. It was Elijah. Everything changed when he stumbled into my life."

Tilda gently smiled at him. "I thought as much."

Sean quickly shook his head. "There's nothing between us. I mean, I'm just trying to be a friend."

"Yes, Sean, but I think you're wishing for something more."

Of course, she could look right into his eyes and know everything he was thinking. Sean dropped his head into his hand, quaking inside. He knew it was all wrong.

"Dear Sean, it's right you should feel such things. It has been a long year and you must trust me on this, life is too short. It's time to leave dwelling in the past."

Sean took in a breath, nodding. "I know, Til. I do. But I can't... not Elijah. After what he's been through, what he needs is a friend."

Tilda furrowed her brow in a thoughtful way. "Have you asked him?"

Sean laughed uneasily. "Of course not."

"Then you don't really know. It's clear how much he looks to you."

It gave Sean a thrill to hear that. "Maybe... but as a friend."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "Well isn't that the best place to start, my dear? I think there may be something more in the way he looks at you, and it may be he doesn't even know it himself yet."

Sean had to swallow down a lump in his throat. "We're living in the same small space, Til. If I said something or did something and I was wrong, we wouldn't be able to go on like that. He'd have to leave, and I'd have to let him go."

"Life is risky, Sean. Some risks are worthwhile and some aren't. And sometimes these things work themselves out. Do you have time to wait and see?"

Sean said, "Only until the car's fixed. I'm sure he'll want to get on to wherever he was going as soon as he can."

Tilda gently squeezed his hand again, then let it go. "I'll put an old hoodoo jinx on that body shop for you."

Sean grinned in spite of himself. "Thanks, Til. I'll need all the help I can get."

"Pshaw, if I were a young man I would be all over you." She smiled at him fondly. "Who could possibly resist?"

Sean laughed. ""I'm not the irresistible one." He thought of Elijah, maybe watching for his return, and felt the pull. "I need to get back." He got up and gathered the plates and cups, but Tilda took them from him.

"I can wash my own dishes. You have better things to do. You'll be coming for dinner, I hope."

"Sure thing. We'll chill the watermelon."

"Lovely. I have something for you, Sean, wait right here." She hurried inside and came back with a cell phone in her hand, which she put into his. "It's all arranged and paid for. Just turn it on and set it up to your liking. You don't have to use it, though I wouldn't mind a ring once in a while."

Sean gave it a skeptical look.

"I'm the only one who has the number, dear. I'm tired of worrying about you out here in your forced solitude. You've shut out the world long enough, don't you think? It isn't only yourself now that you're putting in peril."

Sean nodded. "You're right, Til, as always. But you're not going to pay for it. That's ridiculous."

She raised both eyebrows at him and seemed to grow even taller for a moment. "I will do as I please with my money. It's a gift." She reached out then to pat his cheek, and kissed the other. "Because I love you, Sean, and I want you to be safe. So don't argue."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a long, warm hug. "Thank you, Tilda. I love you, too."


	22. Chapter 22

Elijah made a full pot of coffee despite the fact that Sean wasn't there. They'd shared every meal since he'd come to the cabin, so it felt strange to think of eating breakfast alone.

All last year, whenever Pedar took a business trip, Elijah had considered his time away a gift. With Pedar gone, he was free from his lover's scrutiny and could actually enjoy his time in the brownstone, to eat his meals without fear of doing or saying something that would provoke Pedar's wrath. When Pedar was away he always felt incredibly free, but now, sitting at the table drinking coffee and finishing his second Pop-Tart without Sean there, all Elijah felt was alone.

He needed to hear a familiar voice, wished he could talk to Dom and Billy. They had to be wondering why they hadn't heard from him since he left. Elijah had planned on calling them, before he'd wound up in a place without a phone or an internet connection. It still amazed him that Sean could stand being so cut off from everything. Elijah wished he'd remembered to ask Hannah to get in touch with his friends, just to let them know he was okay. She might have done it on her own, providing she received his letter. Since Hannah didn't know where to write back, Elijah couldn't be sure that she had. He would include a return address in his next letter, if Sean said it was okay.

During his first couple of days on the road, Elijah had imagined Pedar staking out the homes of his friends and family in hopes of finding out where he was. Pedar wouldn't necessarily do it himself, but with his unlimited resources, he could hire any number of private investigators to do it for him. Even with no return address on his letter, Elijah still worried that just the postmark could give Pedar enough to go on, but he'd been too embarrassed to mention his fear. Sean would probably think he was being paranoid, but then Sean had no idea what Pedar was really capable of. Still, his sister had to have gotten his letter by now and there was no sign anyone had come looking for him, so Elijah thought it might be safe to give Hannah Sean's address.

"You're up."

Elijah looked up to see Sean standing in the doorway. "Hi. I didn't know you were back. I usually hear the jeep pull in."

"I didn't drive," Sean explained. "I took the canoe. It felt like a perfect morning to paddle across the lake. Besides, I didn't want to wake you. I actually thought you might still be asleep when I got back. You looked pretty comfortable after I tucked you in."

Elijah hadn't been "tucked in" since he was a small boy, and hearing Sean call it that had him remembering his mother's gentle hands and the sweetness of her voice when she said goodnight. "I was," he said, "but I didn't stay in bed very long. _You_ got up early though. Even earlier than usual."

"Til's been eating bacon and tomato sandwiches for breakfast for as long as I've known her. I knew she'd appreciate making them with tomatoes from the garden, so I wanted to make sure I made it to the house before breakfast. She's even more of an early riser than I am."

"Did you make it in time?" Elijah asked.

"Just about," Sean replied. "Til was frying the bacon when I got there."

"She must have been surprised to see you."

Elijah wanted to say more, to ask Sean why he'd gone there alone, but he knew if he did, he'd come off sounding like a sulky child who hadn't been invited to a party. So he said nothing.

What Elijah was feeling must have shown on his face because Sean suddenly looked concerned. "Elijah?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Elijah forced a smile. "So did you have a nice visit?"

"We did," Sean answered.

Elijah wanted to ask if Tilda had mentioned him, but instead tilted his head toward the coffeemaker and said, "There's fresh coffee if you want some. I made a full pot before I knew you weren't here."

"I wouldn't mind another cup," Sean said, and got himself one. "By the way, we're invited to Til's tonight for dinner. I told her we'd bring our watermelon for dessert."

"Is it ready?"

"I think so, and Til's arrival seems the perfect occasion to open it up."

Elijah nodded then asked, "You wouldn't rather go to Til's by yourself?"

"Of course not," Sean replied, obviously surprised by the question. "Why would you ask that?"

Elijah bit his lip. "I thought when you went over there alone this morning it was because..." He trailed off, feeling embarrassed and wishing he could take back the words.

Understanding seemed to dawn in Sean's eyes. "You thought I didn't want you to come with me?" he asked. When Elijah only shrugged in response, Sean came over to the table. "I did want you to come with me, Elijah. Til was surprised you hadn't. I almost came back to get you, but I left so early, and I didn't think you'd appreciate being pulled out of a warm bed on such a chilly morning."

"That's the only reason you didn't ask me?" Even before Sean nodded, Elijah was smiling again, this time for real. "Well it _was_ really nice under that quilt," he admitted.

Sean was smiling now, too. "So what did you do with yourself while I was gone?"

"Not much. Just had breakfast, but I was thinking about writing to my sister again and I was wondering... Sean, would it be all right if I put your address in my next letter so Hannah can write back to me while I'm here?"

Sean didn't answer right away, which made Elijah think his answer was going to be no. Finally he said, "I don't think that's the best idea."

Elijah's heart sank, but he wasn't surprised. Sean purposely limited his contact with the outside world, so it was only natural that he wouldn't want his address sent out to a stranger. "That's okay," Elijah told him, trying not to sound disappointed.

"What I mean," Sean went on, "is that I'm sure she'd rather hear your voice."

Elijah brightened. "You're going out for supplies soon and I can come with you?" he asked.

Sean shook his head. "No, but you can use this instead."

When Sean held out his hand, for a moment Elijah could only stare, dumbfounded by what was in it. "A cell phone?" he asked incredulously. "When did you get a cell phone?"

"This morning. It's a present from Til. She thinks I shouldn't be so isolated, especially in case of an emergency." Sean grinned. "Plus now that I have a phone, I won't have any excuse not to call her."

Elijah took the phone from Sean, staring at it as if it was a wondrous new invention he was seeing for the first time. "That was really nice of her."

"And incredibly generous," Sean agreed. "Til even insists on paying for it. I told her that was too much, that I'd pay the monthly charges myself, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. So now you can call your sister, Elijah, and talk to her for as long as you like."

"Thank you!" Elijah exclaimed with the exuberance of a child. "And thank Til, too."

"You can do that yourself, at dinner," Sean said, turning and starting for the door. "I'll give you some privacy to make your call."

"You don't have to go," Elijah tried, but Sean was already stepping out onto the porch. Elijah thought about going after him, but he was so excited by the idea of hearing Hannah's voice again that he couldn't wait another minute. He punched in her number, breaking into a grin when his sister picked up on the second ring. "Hannah, it's me. No, I'm still with Sean."

******

Leaning on the porch rail with only the door screen between them, Sean couldn't help hearing, the warmth in Elijah's voice and the pleasure in his words. _"I'm still with Sean."_ As if he was just where he wanted to be. Sean knew what Tilda would think and tried thinking it himself, that Elijah would stay if he was asked.

It was tempting to listen to more, too tempting. Elijah hadn't seemed to care if he heard their conversation, but it didn't feel right to Sean, so he took himself elsewhere, with his thoughts tumbling over each other. Elijah liked him, he couldn't doubt that any longer, but like didn't translate into what he was feeling himself. Elijah trusted him and thought of him as a friend, but that didn't mean Elijah couldn't come to love him, in time. If Elijah stayed, as a friend, they would have all the time in the world to build something more together.

If Elijah stayed. Sean slowly walked around the edge of the wood and looked at the cabin with a more critical eye than he normally did. It wasn't much to offer, but there was a lot he could do to make it more appealing. He could side it for a start, and give it a new porch. It had been built to last, but rather crudely. He could take down the brush and plant some grass. Maybe it would seem more like a home to Elijah if it was less wild. Sean thought of white picket fences and had to laugh at himself. He knew what would really please Elijah, access to the outside world.

There were asters and goldenrod just starting to bloom among the late summer scrub. Autumn was coming, but there was time to get a few things done before winter set in. He wandered on around to the garden and stooped down to give the watermelon a thump. It was time.

******

"I was so worried," Hannah said.

Elijah was surprised by the relief he heard in her voice. "Why?" he asked. "Didn't you get my letter?"

"Yes, but when you didn't tell me where you were or how I could get in touch with you, I didn't know what to think."

Elijah hesitated, then told her, "I'm sorry, Han, but I was afraid if Pedar got hold of the letter he'd be able to find me. I know it's stupid, but—"

"Pedar called me."

The words sent a chill down Elijah's spine. "When?" he asked, his throat so dry he could barely form the word.

"A couple of days after you called," Hannah replied. "He said he'd been out of town, and that when he got home you weren't there. He assumed I knew where you were."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth. I said that you'd called me from the road, but that I had no idea where you were."

Elijah let out the breath he'd been holding. "How did he sound?"

"He sounded normal, as if nothing was wrong, but there was something in his voice, an undercurrent. It scared me."

Elijah frowned. "I'm so sorry, Hannah. I didn't want you to get involved in this mess."

"Don't be stupid," Hannah scolded in the way only someone who really loves you can. "I'm involved because I want to be. I'm your sister, dummy. I care about what happens to you. Don't you know that by now?"

Despite his fear about Pedar's call, Hannah's verbal slap in the face made Elijah smile. "Yeah, I know," he said softly. "Look, Han, Pedar will probably call you again. He might even come to see you, and if he does..."

"I won't tell him about the letter."

"Thanks."

"Where are you calling from?" Hannah wanted to know.

"From the cabin," Elijah said. "I told you. I'm still at Sean's."

"But in your letter you said he didn't have a phone."

"He didn't, but he got a cell phone after I wrote to you. I'm talking on it now."

"Do you think you'll be leaving there soon?" Hannah asked.

"I'm not sure. Dom's car is still in the garage and I don't know how long it will be till it's fixed." Elijah suddenly remembered and asked, "Did you call Dom and Billy to let them know I'm okay?"

"Yes. I figured you'd want them to know. They thought it was pretty weird you couldn't get in touch with them yourself."

"I know," he told her, "but I'll be able to call them now."

"Lijah..."

Elijah could hear a sudden change in his sister's tone, an uneasiness just below the surface. "What is it, Han?" he asked. "Is there something about Pedar you're not telling me?"

"No, I swear," Hannah said quickly. "He called me that one time and I haven't heard from him since."

"But there's something bothering you," Elijah insisted. "I can hear it in your voice. So come on, Sis, spill."

Hannah's sigh was audible. "I just don't understand it."

"Understand what?"

"What his angle is. You're living in this man's house--"

"Sean," Elijah corrected.

"All right, Sean," Hannah amended. "You were a complete stranger, and he took you into his house. Nobody does that without wanting something in return."

"You don't know Sean."

"And _you_ do?" Hannah questioned. "You met him two weeks ago, Elijah. How well could you possibly know him?"

"I know everything I need to," Elijah said with conviction. "Sean's a wonderful man, Hannah, the kindest, most generous man I've ever known. His lover died of cancer a year ago and he needed to be alone, to grieve, but he's doing much better now--"

Hannah interrupted him. "His _lover_?" she repeated. Her voice had changed again. Now it was full of concern. "Elijah, you never told me that Sean is gay."

"I didn't?" He tried to sound convincing.

"You know damn well you didn't," Hannah said sternly.

Now Elijah sighed. "I know you can't have a problem with someone being gay."

"Of course not," she replied.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm just concerned about you, Lijah," Hannah began, her voice gentling. "When I got your letter and read all the things you said about Sean, I... Look, I know you feel grateful to him, but it sounds like there's something more. You'd only known Pedar for a few weeks and you moved into his house because you thought you were in love with him. I'm sure Sean is a wonderful man, but I think you're moving too fast, just like you did before, and I don't want to see you get hurt again."

Elijah blinked as comprehension dawned. "You think there's something going on between Sean and me?" he asked incredulously. "Well there isn't. Fuck, Hannah, Sean never even told me he was gay. I only found out after I saw one of his books. And he's never tried to touch me, not even once."

"It's not Sean I'm worried about, Elijah, it's you."

"Well you don't have to be. Even if I _did_ have feelings for Sean, he could never think of me that way."

"Why not?"

Elijah opened his mouth to respond to Hannah's question, but when he realized he didn't have an answer, said, "I think we should hang up now so I don't use up all of Sean's minutes, but I'll call you again."

"All right," Hannah agreed. "I feel better now that I've spoken to you and know you're safe."

"You don't have to worry," Elijah told her. "Sean's been taking very good care of me. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay. And Lijah?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

His sister's words warmed Elijah. "I love you, too, Hannah," he said softly. "Goodbye."

Elijah broke the connection and put the phone down on the table. Even though the gift hadn't been meant for him, he wanted to tell Tilda how grateful he was to her for giving Sean the cell. Like Hannah, he felt better now that they'd spoken, but he had to admit finding out Pedar had called her had really shaken him. Even more unsettling to him had been Hannah's thoughts about Sean.

He considered himself lucky to have someone in his family who accepted who he was and loved him unconditionally, regardless of his sexual orientation. Elijah suspected his mother had always known he was gay, but Hannah had been the first person he'd actually shared that admission with. Having the kind of bond they did meant no subject was off-limits between them, but listening to his little sister discuss his love life was just too weird.

Hannah had been right about Pedar. Elijah _had_ fallen hard for him that night at the restaurant, but looking back on it now, he realized it had been more lust than love. Pedar had been handsome and sophisticated, and -- Elijah had found out later -- rich and powerful. A man who was all those things certainly wouldn't be interested in Elijah, and yet Pedar had been. And Pedar had been an incredible lover. Though he'd had nothing to compare it with, Elijah couldn't imagine making love with anyone else could be better than it had been with Pedar. He'd been completely dazzled by the man. There was no other word for it.

He'd felt totally different with Sean. Having been so sick at the time, their meeting still felt like a dream to Elijah, but Sean had been real, offering him shelter, taking care of him and not asking for anything in return. Wouldn't another gay man have taken advantage of him in that situation? Even though they'd only known each other a short time, Elijah considered Sean as close a friend as Dom or Billy. Sure he'd talked about Sean in his letter, but for Hannah to think there could ever be more than friendship between them was crazy, wasn't it?

It wasn't like Sean could ever be interested in someone like him. Daniel had been smart, just like Sean. Sean was a writer and Elijah loved movies more than books. Fuck, he hadn't even been able to get through Sean's first one.

Elijah went out onto the porch, but Sean wasn't there. Going back inside, he looked out the bedroom window and saw that Sean was watering his garden. A simple, mundane chore, yet Sean enjoyed it, and Elijah enjoyed helping him. Sean's was a simple life, out of choice, and he'd allowed Elijah into that life. He'd taught Elijah about flowers and wildlife, had taught him how to paddle a canoe. Sometimes they just sat and talked. What had made all those new things enjoyable to Elijah was that he'd done them with Sean. Why had he only realized that now?

His first look at Pedar had caused a stomach-dropping sensation and a hardening of his cock. Seeing Sean the way he'd been at Tilda's the day before, bare-chested and sweating as he split logs for firewood had given Elijah a hardon, too, and let him see Sean as a sexual being for the first time. But there was much more to Sean than just the physical. There was kindness and consideration, understanding and respect. Most importantly, Sean treated him as an equal, something Pedar had never done.

Elijah hadn't put those feelings into words in his letter. He'd just talked about Sean and the things he'd done since he'd been at the cabin. How had Hannah figured out something about him that he hadn't even known himself?

Sean made him feel safe and protected. He could make Elijah think, and the next minute make him laugh. For the first time in his life, Elijah was beginning to feel good about himself, and it was all because of Sean.

He'd never felt that way with Pedar, not even in the beginning when things had been really good. _Was this the way you were supposed to feel when you were with someone?"_ he wondered. _Was this what it felt like to fall in love?_

******

Sean straightened from picking the squash and glanced up at the window. Elijah was there, looking as if something had startled him. Their eyes met, and he backed away and disappeared. Sean quickly coiled the hose to finish up, concerned. There was a sound of the door closing and Elijah finally appeared coming around the corner. He stopped, then came ahead again, with an unfathomable expression. Sean went to meet him. "Is Hannah all right?"

Elijah smiled an easy smile. "Yeah. It was so great to hear her voice." His smooth, pale brow furrowed for a moment. "Pedar called her. But only once, and she hasn't heard from him since."

Sean was glad of the phone then. "You'll be able to call her now and know she's all right. I'll have to find a special way to thank Til."

"I want to thank her, too."

They somehow found themselves just standing there gazing into each other's eyes, until Sean began to feel a little weak and had to look away. Where were those squash he'd picked? "I waited on the watermelon. Thought you'd want to be present for the official harvest." He turned back, in time to catch the strangest look on Elijah's face, before he dropped his eyes and giggled. Hearing that sound made Sean smile every time. "Did I do something funny?"

Elijah looked at him again, smiling, sort of. "No. Can we pick it now...the watermelon?"

Sean said, "Sure," and went to get the mesh bag he'd laid down on the well step, where the squash were. "We'll take it down and drop it into the lake to get cold."

"Really?" Elijah questioned, following him out to the melon patch.

Sean explained that it wouldn't easily fit in the fridge. "The lake's cool for free."

The stem popped off with a light press of his thumb. It was ready. Elijah held the bag open and they wrestled the melon into it. It wasn't huge. Sean's mom had grown real prize-winners back home. But with the soil he had to work with here and less hours of sunlight in a day than would have been optimal, it was something to be proud of. Elijah thought it was a beauty.

Sean carried it down to the lake, and Elijah helped him lower it into the water off the end of the dock. The night had been cool but they were back in the oven with the sun beating down out of a clear sky. Taking their time walking back up through the wood, Elijah spotted a catbird in the low branches ahead, and excitedly pointed it out. "We'll make a naturalist out of you yet," Sean laughed.

"Fuck, I don't have the camera."

The bird flew away at the sound of their voices, giving a jaunty flick of its tail and flashing its rust colored rump at them. "I think we've been told off." They walked on chuckling, back to the cabin, which really did look small and inadequate next to Tilda's place. Sean found himself apologizing. "Sorry looking piece of property, isn't it?"

To Sean's surprise, and maybe Elijah's, too, he said with a fond smile that he liked it. "It's homey. It makes me feel...comfortable."

For a good half minute, Sean had it on the tip of his tongue to say it, to ask him to stay, but there was still plenty of time for that. "Let's make something to take to Tilda for dinner. We'll look at Mom's recipes and see what we can put together with what we've got." There was plenty of zucchini. It had gotten away from him, head-in-the-clouds as he'd been lately.

Elijah seemed to think it was a great idea. They collected the squash and went inside, where they sat at the table over lunch looking through the handwritten cookbook Sean's mom had made for him when he left her nest. She'd written little personal notes here and there, and Elijah had to read every one.

"Grandma Duke's spinach pie. I know you don't like spinach, Sean Patrick, but it's good for you so have it now and again." Elijah snickered. "You don't like spinach either, huh?"

Sean grimaced. "I can manage it in salad these days, but only just."

They finally settled on a cheese-crusted zucchini casserole with onions and peppers, and tomatoes, of course. They had plenty of those as well. Tilda had said chicken on the grill so that would work, and they could put it all together and bake it there. Elijah put on some music, then they got to work. Two hours and a good deal of sweat later, they had the casserole ready to go, and fresh zucchini bread in the oven. Grabbing cold drinks from the refrigerator, they went out to the porch to escape the heat.

They sprawled in their deck chairs and Elijah breathed an exaggerated sigh. Sean smiled. "Am I working you too hard?"

Elijah swooned dramatically but quickly recovered, giggling. "At least they had air conditioning at the restaurant."

Sean seriously thought about that, but air conditioning was a tall order with the limited power he had there. "It'll be fall soon, and summers here aren't normally this hot." A blatant attempt at trying to sell the place. Sean glanced Elijah's way. He was running the cool of his iced glass across his brow.

"It was hot in the city, too." He took a drink, and leaned his head back. "I bet it's pretty here with the leaves all different colors."

Sean settled back with a satisfied smile. "In good seasons, it's spectacular." They sat for a while just enjoying the peacefulness, or Sean did, enjoying the idea of having Elijah there to share it with him. Elijah seemed to have things on his mind.

"Would it be okay if I used the phone to call Dom and Billy?"

"Of course, Elijah. I'm sure Tilda will be thrilled we're actually using it."

"You can call your mom now, too. I bet she'd love it if she could talk to you."

Sean considered that with as much trepidation as anticipation, but she would love it. "I'll have to call her one of these days."

Elijah gave him a curious look. "It sounds like you don't want to."

Sean smiled. "Sometimes, my mother is easier to love from a distance. But I'll be the dutiful son and give her the number. One of these days." He was sorry he'd put it that way when a shadow of sadness passed over Elijah's face. He sighed. "We clash sometimes, Elijah, but I love my mom as much as you love yours. I'll give her a call tomorrow." That seemed to redeem him. "And you can call your friends. Or you can call them now if you want to."

Elijah shrugged and then shook his head. "Tomorrow's okay. Hannah will probably let them know I called."

Too soon, the oven timer beckoned them back in to take out the bread, which smelled fantastic. Sean cut into one for them to sample hot with butter, and they ended up scarfing half the loaf. They'd take the other one. It was mid-afternoon. By the time they showered and got around, it would be late enough to head over to Tilda's.

Sean gave Elijah the bathroom first while he cleaned up the kitchen, so he got the steamy shift. He closed the door and breathed it in, the scent of Elijah. The mirror was completely fogged over, but he knew what he looked like dripping with sweat. He stripped and turned the shower on cool. No lingering today. When he emerged at last, Elijah was closing the computer and tidying up his 'desk'. He had the camera draped around his neck.

"We were talking about cameras yesterday, so I thought I'd bring yours over to Til's and maybe show her some of my pictures." He didn't seem all too sure that was a good idea, but Sean did.

"She'll like that, Elijah, and she can give you some expert pointers." The way it felt then, it seemed unlikely to turn cool, but it had the night before. "We'd better take jackets, just in case."

They brought the watermelon up from the lake, then packed everything and went by Jeep. Tilda was out on the front porch when they got there, and greeted them with a wave and a smile. She had an easel set up and was painting a watercolor of the lake and sky.

Elijah was surprised. "I didn't know you were a painter, Til."

She laughed. "I'm not, dear. Painting was Mary's forte. I only play around at it when I'm here."

Elijah thought it was great, and so did Sean. "You've really caught the light, Til." It had a strange quality to it, the light, which he'd only noticed. Tilda said she was just finishing, putting her brushes in water and gathering things to take inside.

"Time to get started on dinner. I think we'll marinate that chicken in a little white wine and tarragon. You can be my sous chef, Elijah."

Elijah seemed happy to oblige. He went with her inside while Sean took the steps back down to go and get the cooler from the Jeep. While he was at it, he carried the watermelon out to the dock and dropped it into the lake. He straightened from tying off the rope and spotted it, a dark haziness lying far off over the forest to the west. Cloud? Not likely. Smoke then.

Sean's first impulse was to tell Tilda and Elijah, but he didn't want to alarm them needlessly if it was nothing. He couldn't tell from there. He hurried back to the Jeep to grab the binoculars he'd been discreetly keeping near at hand. Then he headed for the path up into the wood, to get to the nearest high point and have a better look.


	23. Chapter 23

Even though he'd worked in a restaurant, Elijah didn't know what a sous chef was, but it sounded interesting, so when Tilda had suggested he do the job, he'd been excited to give it a try. Now as he sat tearing lettuce and peeling carrots, the job didn't seem quite as glamorous as he'd imagined it would be. "So sous chef is just another name for the guy who does all the grunt work?" Elijah asked her.

"In a manner of speaking," Tilda replied with a chuckle, "although when it comes to preparing a meal, I consider even the most menial tasks to be an essential part of the process. Still, dear, if you'd rather be outside helping Sean, I can finish preparing the salad."

This was the second time he'd been relegated to kitchen duty while Sean had stayed outside to do the "manly" chores. Elijah wondered if he should feel annoyed that he'd been assigned the stereotypical woman's role, but realized that he didn't mind at all.

"No, it's okay, Til," he assured her. "I'm really not the outdoor type. At least I wasn't till I came here."

"Sean's been introducing you to the beauty of nature then?" Tilda surmised.

"I guess. We've taken some walks in the woods, and we've been spending a lot of time at the lake. Sean even took me out in the canoe and tried to teach me how to paddle it."

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Mostly I just gave Sean a bath," Elijah said, and giggled at the memory.

"I'm sure he didn't mind. You shouldn't feel bad, Elijah. It takes practice to do anything well."

"Even peeling carrots?" Elijah wanted to know.

Tilda nodded. "Even that." When she saw Elijah try to stifle a yawn she said, "Are you tired, dear? Aren't you sleeping well?" Before he could speak she provided her own answer. "It's not surprising if you're back on that loveseat. Sleeping on that thing could ruin anyone's back, even someone as young as you. I imagine you've been tossing and turning all night."

"I'm still sleeping in Sean's bed," Elijah told her.

"Oh?" Tilda sighed. "Then it's poor Sean's back I should be worried about," she said sympathetically.

"No, Sean's sleeping in the bed, too." At Tilda's raised eyebrows, Elijah felt his face grow warm. "It's not like that," he hastily explained. "We're sharing the bed, but just to sleep."

"I see."

Tilda hadn't asked for any further explanation, but Elijah felt she deserved one anyway. "I was having nightmares," he began, embarrassment causing him to look away, "but with Sean next to me, I was able to sleep through the night without any bad dreams."

"That's nothing to feel embarrassed about," Tilda said kindly when his eyes finally met hers again. "No matter how old we get, we never outgrow our need to feel safe and cared for."

"I thought it would hurt Sean to have me sleeping next to him instead of Daniel. I offered to go back to the loveseat, but Sean wouldn't let me."

Tilda nodded. "I'm sure it was difficult for him, Elijah, but I also think your being here has been good for Sean."

"I don't know about that," Elijah said shyly, "but being here has sure been good for me. I won't ever to able to pay Sean back for everything he's done for me."

Tilda smiled. "Sean doesn't expect you to repay him, Elijah."

"I know," Elijah told her, "but I still wish I could."

"I think you already have, dear. Sean cut himself off from everyone and everything after Daniel's death. He tried his best to escape the world, but you brought it right to his doorstep when you inadvertently found your way to his cabin." Tilda took his hand in hers. "You gave Sean a reason to live again, Elijah, and for that I'll always be grateful to you."

Uneasy with Tilda's praise, Elijah shifted uncomfortably. "Sean loved Daniel so much. Do you think he'll ever want to, you know, be with someone else?"

"When someone's found love, when they've shared their life with someone, it's only natural they'd want to experience that same kind of happiness again. I think the time will come when Sean will be ready to do that."

"And you'll be okay with it?" Elijah asked.

Tilda's surprise showed on her face. "Of course," she replied, sounding almost annoyed by the question. "Whatever made you think I wouldn't be?"

Elijah just looked at her. Wasn't it obvious? "You're Daniel's aunt."

Tilda's face softened, all trace of annoyance gone. "Daniel had ten wonderful years with Sean," she said. "I wished they'd had many more years together, but a higher power had other plans for them. Daniel's last wish was for Sean to carry on with his life, to find happiness with someone else. Do you think _I'd_ wish anything less for him?"

Elijah shook his head. "No, I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, dear. I know you were only concerned about my feelings."

"I was," Elijah replied, relieved that Tilda understood. "Til, when that times comes," he went on cautiously, "do you think Sean will choose someone like Daniel?"

"That's certainly possible, Elijah. People often seek out someone similar to the person they lost."

"I guess," Elijah agreed. "He and Daniel had so much in common. They liked the same kinds of things, so Sean would probably want to be with someone like that again."

"That won't necessarily be the case."

"But there's a good chance, right?" Elijah forced a grin. "I mean, could you see Sean ever wanting someone like me?"

Tilda cocked her head. "I certainly could," she replied. "Couldn't you?"

"No way!"

"Why not?"

That question again. When Hannah had asked it, Elijah had been caught off-guard, but now he had an answer. "Because we're too different," he told Tilda. "Sean went to college and I barely made it through high school," he went on, as if that was explanation enough. "And he's a writer." Elijah grimaced. "I tried reading his first book twice and couldn't get through it either time. Didn't Sean tell you? Can you imagine somebody as smart as Sean being with a guy who couldn't even understand something he'd written?"

"I don't measure intelligence by different tastes in reading material," Tilda announced. "I was very lucky, Elijah. I was born into a family that believed everyone should be allowed to reach their full potential. My Mary wasn't as lucky. Like many women of our day, she was raised to be a decoration on a man's arm, to keep his home and to raise his children. She had a fine mind, but was never given more than a basic education. The thought of going to college was unthinkable to her, but do you think her lack of education made me love her any less?" She reached across the table and stroked his cheek. "My dear boy, intellect plays no part in who we fall in love with."

Elijah studied her carefully. "So you think that Sean could have feelings for—" He managed to catch himself in time. "For someone like me?"

"I would never presume to speak for Sean," Tilda told him, "but I will tell you that he's a man who follows his heart. And if you allow yourself to follow yours, you might be surprised where it leads you."

******

Sean reached the lookout winded, but intent on the mission. He trained his binoculars on the forest across the lake to the west. Over it hung not a wisp of smoke but a pall of darkness, reaching from one end of his view to the other. His heart thumped in his chest. But it didn't look like smoke. There was no detail or definition to it, no movement he could make out. He stared transfixed. It wasn't smoke. It was a storm front, surely, low on the horizon but expanding as he watched.

It was hot still, and calm even there in that high place, and he was sweating from the climb. But he was more certain every minute. They might just get some rain. He lowered the binoculars and sat down to catch his breath, under the old elm tree, on the massive log he'd dragged there and cut into a sort of bench many years ago. It was a picturesque, romantic spot, in spite of the drought.

Sean spent a few minutes daydreaming, imagining himself bringing Elijah up to see the view, maybe after the leaves had turned, once they'd had some rain and it was greener and brighter. They could bring a blanket and have a picnic. They'd lie there together filled with peacefulness, and Sean would tell Elijah everything that was in his heart. It was a lot of silliness, but he didn't laugh at himself this time. It could happen.

 

*******

"Following my heart didn't work out so great last time," Elijah told Tilda.

"You're thinking of the man who abused you," Tilda surmised.

"Yeah. Pedar. I fell for him the first time I saw him, and moved in with him before I got to know him. Pretty dumb, huh?"

Tilda shook her head. "No, just very young. I think you're being too hard on yourself, dear."

"Sean said the same thing," Elijah said thoughtfully.

"Then perhaps you should listen to him," Tilda suggested. "Sean is a very smart young man."

"I know, but I think he was just trying to make me feel better. He does that a lot."

Tilda smiled. "That's because Sean is also a very nice young man." Elijah knew that better than anyone and said so. "You're a very nice young man, too, Elijah."

"Thanks, Til."

"You're welcome, dear."

Suddenly remembering, Elijah said, "I know Sean already thanked you for the phone, but I want to thank you, too."

"I was happy to do it. I told Sean he was taking the idea of solitude much too far, and I'll admit I did worry about him not being able to call for help if he needed it."

"He let me use it to call Hannah."

"Hannah?" Tilda questioned.

"My sister," Elijah explained. "I wrote her a letter when I first got to Sean's, but I didn't put a return address on it so..."

When he didn't finish the sentence, Tilda finished it for him. "So she wouldn't be able to tell your lover where you were." At Elijah's nod she said, "Considering what you've told me about him, I think that was a wise decision, Elijah."

Tilda agreeing that it had been a good idea to keep his whereabouts secret made Elijah feel a lot less foolish about his fears regarding Pedar. "I was going to ask Sean if I could give Hannah his address the next time I wrote, but he handed me the phone and said I should call her instead."

"I'm sure your sister is happy that you found a home with Sean."

Hearing Tilda put it that way made Elijah think of Hannah's concerns, but he didn't share them with Tilda. "I'm finished with the salad, Til," he said. "What do you want me to do next?"

"We need to make the marinade for the chicken."

"Just show me what to do," Elijah said enthusiastically.

Tilda smiled again, looking pleased. "Excellent. You can start by getting me a mixing bowl from the cupboard."

As they prepared the mix, Elijah asked Tilda, "Do you know much about Sean's parents?"

"I met them only once, at Daniel's funeral," Tilda replied. "Why do you ask?"

Elijah shrugged. "Something Sean said about his Mom, that it was easier to love her from a distance."

"I imagine that's still true. I've never discussed it with Sean, but Daniel told me Anna suffers from bi-polar disorder. Do you know what that is?"

"Is it like depression?" Elijah asked.

"In a sense. Persons with BP suffer serious depression, coupled with periods of extreme euphoria, what you would call big highs. I imagine it's like riding an emotional roller-coaster. She's on medication for it now, but it was very difficult for Sean and his younger brother when they were children, before her condition was diagnosed and treated."

Sean's remark about his mother made sense to Elijah now. He'd imagined Sean's childhood had been perfect, the opposite of his own, but now he knew better. Elijah wanted to know more, but didn't ask because he suddenly felt guilty for invading Sean's privacy, and for using Tilda to find out things about him without his permission or his knowledge. "Til, please don't tell Sean I was asking about his mother. I don't want him to know I was talking about his family behind his back."

"Don't worry, dear. I'm sure he wouldn't mind your knowing, but if you prefer, I won't mention it to Sean."

"Mention what to Sean?" Elijah turned to see Sean standing outside, watching them through the screen door. He looked a little out of breath, but otherwise in a good mood. He wore a smile as he asked again, "Mention what?"

"Nothing, dear," Tilda answered before Elijah could. "Elijah wanted to know something about Daniel and was afraid you might be upset with him for asking me." She glanced at Elijah, who met her eyes gratefully.

Sean seemed satisfied with her answer and didn't offer any comment. It was obvious he had something more important on his mind. "I think there's a storm brewing," he said.

"Do you really think so, Sean?" Tilda asked with great interest.

"I do," Sean confirmed. "I saw what I thought was smoke, so I went up higher to check it out, and now I'm sure it's a storm front." He opened the screen door, but instead of coming in, he held it open, inviting them to come outside instead.

******

Sean found a spot where they could get a good look through the overhanging tree branches, then handed the binoculars to Elijah and stood behind him, lining him up with both hands on his shoulders. "Right through there, low over that tree line."

Elijah raised the binoculars and had a look, then handed them to Tilda. "That's a storm?"

"I hope so." Sean could make it out from where they stood now, so it was moving fairly fast. "I'd say we've got a fifty percent chance of getting some rain."

Tilda lowered the binoculars at last and handed them back to Sean, then took out her phone and made a call. She listened for a moment, smiling, then announced, "They're saying eighty percent, with a storm warning in effect."

Sean whooped, "All right!" Elijah looked at him, grinning. Tilda said they should set up a table out on the front porch so they could watch it roll in while they dined, and Elijah offered to do that, so the two of them went back inside. Sean brought the cooler up from the Jeep so they could put the zucchini casserole in the oven, then went back out to set up and start the grill heating. He watched the sky while he was working and saw the first distant flash of lighting. He counted seconds to the faint rumble of thunder that finally followed. It was far off still, but it was coming. And if they didn't get any rain out of it, there was serious risk of the lightning setting fires, so he watched for smoke as well.

The screen door quietly opened and Tilda stepped out onto the patio. Elijah could be heard on the front porch, getting a table ready for dinner. Tilda gave Sean a mysterious smile. "He's a sweet boy, so open-hearted."

Sean agreed. "He is." She walked over to take the binoculars and have a look. Low clouds had begun to roll in, and there was the faintest of breezes on the air. "It's been almost a month since we had rain. I don't think we've had a good thunderstorm all summer. You picked a good time to come, Til."

"I certainly did, my dear." She gave him a kiss on the cheek, still smiling, then went back inside and left him wondering.

 

*******

"This casserole is wonderful," Tilda said after another mouthful. "One of your mother's recipes, Sean?"

Sean nodded. "It was one of her many plots to get me to eat more vegetables when I left home for college."

"I'd say it worked," Elijah said with a grin. "I never ate so many vegetables until I came here."

"I'm glad to hear Sean's taking such good care of you," Tilda told him. "There's no reason food can't be delicious _and_ good for you."

"I know," Elijah replied. "Thanks to Sean, zucchini bread is now one of my favorite snacks."

"Elijah is not only eating better," Sean put in, "but he's also learning his way around the kitchen."

"You made this, Elijah?" Tilda asked, obviously impressed.

Elijah put up his hands in protest. "I just helped. A little." He smiled. "Mostly I was Sean's sous chef."

Tilda smiled back at him. "Well you certainly have a knack for it, dear."

"Thanks, Til."

"As good as everything is," Sean interrupted, "we need to leave room for dessert. We have something very special."

Tilda asked, "Is this the famous watermelon I've heard so much about?"

"It is," Sean said with obvious pride.

She clapped her hands in anticipation. "I can't wait to taste it."

Sean grinned. "Then I'd say there's no time like the present. I'll go get it."

When Elijah asked if he wanted help, Sean said he could manage on his own. Once he was on his way down to the lake, Tilda said, "It does my heart good to see Sean like this again. He hasn't been this happy since he and Daniel first came here."

Elijah had to agree. He hadn't known him back then, but Sean was a different man from the one he'd met only a few short weeks ago. Elijah couldn't imagine the Sean he'd met then grinning with pride over a watermelon, or being so tickled about the possibility of rain that he'd practically done a little dance out there on the patio.

"Thank you for giving him back to me, Elijah."

Elijah wanted to believe Tilda was right, that in some way he was responsible for the change in Sean, but he still wasn't convinced. "It _has_ been a year since Daniel died," he offered.

"As popular as it may be, Elijah, I don't subscribe to the belief that time heals all wounds. It plays a part, of course, but I believe the wounds you suffer when you lose the person you love can't really begin to heal until you give yourself permission to move on."

"And you think Sean is ready to move on?" Elijah asked.

"My dear boy, I think he's already begun."

Elijah opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly Sean was there, their watermelon in his arms. "Isn't she a beauty?" he trumpeted.

"_She_?" Tilda asked with raised eyebrows.

"Call me a sexist, but I've always thought of growing things as being female. Something about the nurturing of a seed..." Sean looked chagrined. "I know. You think I'm crazy."

"Not at all," Tilda contradicted him. "I think it's a lovely notion, and you're right, Sean. She is a beauty."

Sean beamed. "Elijah, clear a little space on the table so I can put her down and cut her open." Elijah quickly complied, stacking empty dishes in a pile on the porch. "While I'm doing this, why don't you show Til your pictures?"

"What pictures are those?" Tilda wanted to know.

"Elijah's been taking pictures for weeks. He brought the camera with him, hoping you might take a look at them and tell him what you think."

Even though he'd had every intention of asking her, now Elijah felt awkward about doing it and said, "No, that's okay. Maybe some other time."

"Nonsense, dear, I'd love to see them." Reluctantly, Elijah handed Tilda the camera and she immediately began previewing the photos on the display screen. "I see you went to the fair this year. There are some wonderful shots here, Elijah. I really like the way you caught the band during their performance."

Sean spoke as he carved thick slices of watermelon. "I told him the same thing. Maybe now that he's heard it from a professional he'll believe it."

Elijah came to stand beside her as she continued to review his photos. When she came to one of Sean laughing, Tilda looked up at Elijah with a knowing smile. "I especially like this one," she said. "I can tell you have a real feeling for your subject." Elijah couldn't think of anything to say but thank you.

Sean handed each of them a plate with a huge slice of watermelon on it. "You should have seen Elijah, Til. He'd go out to the garden every morning and take a picture of this baby, to see if looked any different from the morning before."

Elijah grimaced. "Thanks a lot, Sean. Now Til will think _I'm_ crazy."

"I'll do no such thing, dear," Tilda assured him. She picked up her slice of melon. "I just hope this tastes as good as it looks."

"There's only one way to find out," Sean suggested.

After so much anticipation, Elijah was sure he'd be disappointed, but the watermelon was even better than anything he'd imagined. Cool. Sweet. Delicious. As he devoured it, dark clouds gathered overhead. "Do you think we might get a real storm?" he asked. "Not just rain?"

"It's possible," Sean replied. "With the intense heat we've been having, I'm surprised we haven't had one already."

"I hope we get a really big storm," Elijah went on. "They used to scare Hannah, but when I was a kid, I loved them. I'd sit outside so I could hear the thunder boom and watch the flashes light up the sky. Mom was afraid I'd get struck by lightning so she always made me come inside, but I'd sit by the window and watch from there."

Then as if his just wishing for it was enough to make it happen, a sudden, cold breeze blew in under the awning, and as it did, Elijah felt the first drops of rain.

******

A gust of chill wind lifted the tablecloth and the peppergrinder fell over with a thud. Elijah shivered, a full-bodied shudder that Sean felt on the back of his own neck. Sean wiped his sticky fingers, and got himself up to do the gallant thing and go to the Jeep for their jackets, while Elijah and Tilda gathered up the food and dishes to take inside.

Sean retrieved Elijah's old Army Surplus coat from the backseat and wrapped it in his windbreaker to keep it dry. The rain came with a flash of lightning and a thunderous boom, and he found himself pausing in his rush back up to the porch, to raise his face and exult in it for a moment before hurrying on.

Elijah was clearly enjoying the excitement. He'd come a long way from fearfully watching over his shoulder, sad-eyed and closed off, and the sound of his laughter now filled Sean's heart. He had his arms full and was trying to keep the tablecloth from blowing away with one knee holding it pinned down. Sean caught the tablecloth and threw it over his shoulder, then draped Elijah's coat around his shoulders, and picked up the small table to follow him inside.

Sean set the table in its place and went to make a fire in the hearth, while Elijah took his stack of dishes to the kitchen and then helped Tilda close windows where the rain was coming in. It went from dusk to dark in the blink of an eye, it seemed. Damp and chilled, Sean was glad of a little warmth when the fire caught and flamed up.

"Thank you, Sean." Tilda came and stood holding out her hands to warm them. "Better your knees than mine," she said with a wink.

Elijah joined them, tugging his coat around him, looking a little damp himself. Damp and delectable, Sean couldn't help thinking, and found himself wishing they were home alone together with their own fire. He got to his feet and made room for Elijah in the warmest spot, and they stood quietly for a while listening to the wind bluster and the thunder crack. It sounded as if the rain was coming from every side but they all looked at each other, smiling, and went back out onto the porch to watch it.

Sean could almost feel the earth sighing with relief, the thirsting plant life drinking it up. The rain came down in a torrent. If it kept up the hard, dry ground wouldn't be able to soak it in fast enough. The writhing lake would swell and flooding was likely. Their rutted lanes could quickly become impassable. He spoke that thought aloud. "We should be getting back."

Tilda suggested they stay. "I have plenty of blankets. We can bed you down here."

"But I left all the windows open at home." It would be a mess, though it might not be blowing so much away from the lake. "We won't have any trouble getting through if we go soon. If you'd rather not be alone, Til, you could come with us." He knew better. She laughed.

"I'll be just fine, Sean, don't you worry. I didn't build this place high for no reason."

Sean was sure the house was secure, built up into the hill as it was, and Tilda liked her alone time when she was here. Elijah looked at him trustingly, apparently okay with whatever he wanted to do. They waited until the downpour seemed to slacken some, then made a dash for the Jeep. It felt like the temperature had dropped thirty degrees and getting drenched was no longer an appealing prospect.

The roads were already deteriorating, the lane to the cabin particularly, wild and winding as it was. Elijah leaned forward, peering through the rain lashed windshield as the Jeep squirreled this way and that over the rutted, wet-slimed roadbed. The headlights pierced the wood on either side more than they lighted the way ahead, but Sean knew the road and managed to keep them on it. By the time they were around the last tricky turn and rolling to a stop, his shoulders were stiff with tension.

The cabin was dark, the rain pouring. Sean shut off the engine and opened his door enough to turn on the overhead lamp. Elijah looked at him, bright-eyed and grinning.

"Wow!"

Sean smiled back at him. "If I had an umbrella, I'd run in and get it for you, but I don't."

Elijah giggled. "I won't melt." He had the camera stuffed up under his tee-shirt and clutched it protectively to him, and they made a dash for it. They both got thoroughly drenched, no way around it. Sean flipped on a light and then hurried to close the windows. The sills were wet, and the floors here and there, but it could have been much worse. He went on into the bathroom to grab an armload of towels, and shook off his dripping windbreaker while he was there. When he came out again, Elijah had his coat off as well and was anxiously drying the camera. "I think it's okay." Teeth chattering. "I hope it's okay… " He was shivering so hard he nearly dropped it.

Sean took the camera from him to put aside and sat him down on the couch, wrapped in a big towel. Sliding the laptop over, Sean settled in front of him and set about vigorously toweling his hair. "What a turn. I should have known it was likely to catch me off guard." Though what he could have done to be better prepared, he didn't know. "I'll make us a fire. You need to get out of these wet clothes." Elijah went on shivering, head down. He seemed to gasp faintly, a soft breathy sound. "Elijah, are you all right?"

Elijah raised his head, blue eyes round and wondering, long dark eyelashes spangled with wet. The longing Sean saw there had to be real. The towel slid off of his shoulders as he moved, reaching out as Sean did, and just like that Elijah was in his arms.

Sean held him close and couldn't help touching, rubbing his back and stroking his damp hair. Their bodies quickly warmed where they pressed through wet clothes, and Elijah looked at Sean at last, his face flushed with color and his lips parted on a shaky breath. Sean ached inside to smother those lips with his. And just when he thought he couldn't resist any longer, Elijah kissed him.

It was the way Sean remembered his very first kiss, filled with all the wishing and hoping it had taken to get there, but this was so much more even. This was heat lightning over a ripe wheat field at dusk, and a wild sea tossed in a gale. This was shouting from a mountaintop! They had to breathe, and for long seconds just stared into each other's eyes until everything else faded and there was only Elijah's face and Elijah's body. With Sean's head already spinning it began to feel like a dream. "Elijah?"

Elijah gave him a shy smile. "Sean."

Sean brushed hesitant fingers across his warm lips, and Elijah pressed a little kiss to them, as real as the glowing blush that spread over his cheeks. The joy bubbled up and Sean had to laugh, then they were kissing again and the doubts fled. Elijah leaned back into the couch cushions and Sean followed, until they were stretched out and Elijah was under him, body plastered to his and quivering with excitement. Thunder boomed, shaking the cabin, and a bright flash of lightning lit the shadows. Sean was aware in the back of his mind that it was cold and he should do something about it, but his own body leapt to attention against Elijah's and clear thinking became a near impossibility. He tried, tearing himself loose from Elijah's too distracting mouth, cupping Elijah's head in his hands and looking into those bright eyes. "Should change clothes… you'll freeze."

Elijah half shook his head, catching a breath, and slid his arms around Sean's neck as if to hold him there. "I'm warm now."

Sean was feeling plenty warm himself. And he couldn't let go of this now at any rate. Under his gently stroking thumbs he could feel the pulse pounding in Elijah's temples, and watched mesmerized as a lingering raindrop rolled into the soft pink shell of his ear. Elijah shivered, looking up at him with lowered lashes, and moved under him, against him, adding friction to the heat that was quickly building between them. Sean's cock swelled in his cold clammy jeans and in sudden extreme discomfort, he wriggled a hand down between them to pop the snap on his jeans, and fumbled Elijah's open while he was at it, so they could strip them off and lie skin to skin.

After so long alone and apart from human touch, the feel of Elijah's body naked against Sean's roused far more than just his physical being. His senses reeled and his heart soared. He buried his face in Elijah's damp hair and breathed him deep, and Elijah wrapped both arms tight around him, breath warm and quick on his shoulder as they urgently thrust and slid against each other. They made their own heat while it lasted, not long enough for either of them. Elijah's lithe body tensed and jerked under Sean's and he threw back his head with a breathless little cry. Sean pressed a shaky kiss to his pale, perfect neck and shuddered into orgasm three heartbeats later. The lights seemed to go out. With a soft sigh, Elijah's body slowly melted into a double armful of blissfulness, as Sean shivered through a last pulsing sensation.

They both lay there breathing hard and trembling in the aftermath, as the thunder rumbled distantly, moving off and leaving only the sound of the rain, and the blood still rushing in Sean's ears. He began to feel the cold on his backside, and the way he was thoughtlessly crushing Elijah. He moved to lift himself on shaking arms, meaning to ease his weight off, but Elijah pulled him back down, hands lightly roving over his back and shoulders. Sean hid his face with a sigh. "Elijah, I'm so sorry."

Elijah's hand twitched, restless fingers stilled. He asked in a small voice, "Are you?"

Sean raised his head and saw a look in those blue eyes of something like fear. Sean caught a breath. "No, Elijah. God, no." Sean tenderly kissed his lips and stroked back the soft wisping hair from his face. "I'm only sorry I didn't make this perfect for you. I am capable of a little finesse."

Elijah laughed and hugged him.

Sean felt like he'd been granted a second chance at life. He rolled them to one side so Elijah was snug and warm between the couch back and himself, and stared to his heart's content. "You are so beautiful." The glow of color over Elijah's high cheekbones deepened and he raised a hand to cover his face, giggling like it embarrassed him. Sean kissed his fingers one by one, with awe and delight. "Elijah. Is this real?"

Elijah's beautiful eyes seemed to glimmer with tears for just a moment. He wrapped his arms around Sean and held to him tight, whispering, "I sure hope so."


	24. Chapter 24

Was it real? Elijah wasn't sure, not even after he played the events back in his mind, trying to sort it out.

The urgent, overwhelming need to touch. Being in Sean's arms, Sean's hands moving over him, fast and rough. Wanting so badly for Sean to kiss him. Finally kissing Sean first. Being kissed back. Sean covering his body and getting them out of their jeans. Their bodies taking over, moving against each other so frantically they came without even touching their cocks. And after it was over, resting quietly on the loveseat with Sean beside him.

If it was a dream, Elijah didn't want to wake up.

"Are you all right?" Sean asked softly. "I'm not crowding you, am I?"

It was a tight squeeze with two of them occupying such a narrow space, but Elijah didn't mind at all. "I'm fine," he said, then gave Sean a little smile. "Better than fine."

Sean lay facing him, their bodies touching. Elijah moved himself back against the loveseat just enough so he could free his arms, and placed his hands on Sean's chest. While his own tee-shirt had ridden up on his torso, the frantic movements of their bodies had caused the buttons of Sean's shirt to come completely undone. Even after the intimacy they had just shared, Elijah still felt a little insecure, but moving tentatively, he opened Sean's shirt so his bare chest was completely exposed. He did nothing more, but when Sean smiled at him, silently encouraging him to go further, Elijah let his fingers explore the chestnut down that covered Sean's chest and traveled down his stomach. "At Til's yesterday, when I saw you without your shirt for the first time," he said shyly, "you reminded me of a big teddy bear."

"A teddy bear, huh?" Sean asked with a quizzical expression. "And how do you feel about teddy bears?"

Elijah curled a few strands of Sean's chest hair around his finger. "I took one to bed with me every night when I was little. Couldn't go to sleep without him."

Sean pursed his lips. "Then Teddies are now officially my favorite species of bear." He ran his fingers through Elijah's hair, totally disheveled by the rough toweling he'd given it. "All this time I've been holding myself back, not believing you could possibly ever think of me as anything more than a friend."

"When I talked to Hannah today, she said my letter made her think I was feeling something more for you than friendship, and after I told her you were gay, she was sure of it. I told her she was wrong, but she could tell, Sean. She knew what I felt even before I did." He hesitated, then went on. "Yesterday when you were chopping wood, I watched you for a while before you saw me. I, ah…" Elijah felt his face grow warm. "Watching you swing that ax, seeing the sweat on your muscles, it gave me a hardon. I started to go back inside, but you saw me before I could. You started talking to me, but I was so embarrassed I could hardly face you."

Sean's eyes widened. "I never for a minute considered that you might be aroused. The way you were acting, I knew something was wrong, but I thought it was the idea of anything sexual that had you spooked. I was sure even just seeing another man's bare flesh might upset you, that it would be a reminder of what you'd been through with Pedar."

Now it was Elijah's turn to be surprised. "Is that why you've been wearing all those clothes to bed? You must have been dying from the heat."

Sean nodded. "I was, but I didn't want to take the chance my skin might touch yours while we slept. It's why I stayed so close to the edge of my side of the bed, so you wouldn't feel threatened." He paused, as if considering. "When you didn't want to join me in the lake, was it because you still had an erection?"

"Yeah." Elijah started feeling embarrassed all over again. "You'd been taking such good care of me, but you were treating me like a little brother, so I thought you wouldn't like seeing me that way." He looked down, biting his bottom lip. "I was afraid if you knew watching you had gotten me hard, you'd think I really _was_ a slut."

Sean ran his hand gently down Elijah's cheek, then taking his chin, lifted his face up until their eyes met. "So much time wasted," he said, and Elijah could hear the regret in his voice. "Hannah wasn't the only one who thought there might be something besides friendship between us, you know."

"She wasn't?"

Sean shook his head. "Til suspected. No, more than suspected. She could tell the moment she saw us together that there was more going on than just my feeling protective of you. It was you she wasn't quite sure about. She told me she thought you might feel something more than gratitude for me, even if you didn't realize it yourself."

"I knew Til was a sharp lady when I met her," Elijah offered, then frowned and muttered, "Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Sean asked.

"Nothing," Elijah assured him. "I was just thinking I'll have to tell Hannah she was right about me. She's never gonna let me forget it."

Sean couldn't help laughing at that. "You love her very much, don't you?"

"She's the most important person in my life...except for you."

Sean's face radiated pure pleasure. He placed a gentle kiss on Elijah's lips then said, "As much as I hate the idea of moving right now, the way the temperature's dropping, unless I start a fire and we get out of these wet clothes, we're both going to catch pneumonia."

Elijah didn't want Sean to go anywhere. He wished they could lie together on the loveseat and never have to move. It was a lovely fantasy, but not a very practical one, especially with the temperature dropping. "If you were a wizard," he sighed, "you could just zap a fire into the fireplace from here and we could both stay right where we are."

That made Sean chuckle. "I know you'd rather be here with Gandalf," he said playfully, "but you're stuck with me, and I need to light the fire by hand." Sean slid his hand down between their bellies, then pulled it out again, sticky with their semen. "Besides, I think we could both use a shower, don't you?"

"I guess," Elijah agreed with reluctance, then his face brightened as the idea came to him. "If we shower together we can conserve water." When Sean didn't respond, Elijah was afraid he might have gone too far. "That's okay," he said. "We don't have to."

Sean placed a quick kiss on Elijah's nose and grinned. "I can't think of anything I'd like more," he said. Standing up and wrapping one of the dry towels around his waist, he moved to the fireplace. Elijah didn't follow right away, so Sean urged, "You go ahead, Elijah. I'll join you as soon as I'm done with the fire."

Elijah was still reluctant to get up, but without the warmth of Sean's body next to him, he was already starting to feel chilled again. A hot shower sounded like heaven, so he got up, and grabbing his jeans from the floor, headed for the bathroom, peeling off his tee-shirt as he went.

The storm was less intense now than it had been when they'd made their mad dash to the cabin from the jeep. Gusts of wind no longer rattled the windows, but Elijah could still hear the rain beating down steadily on the roof. Turning the hot water on full blast, he let it run, and soon steam was rising in waves, fogging up the mirror above the sink. Elijah drew back the shower curtain and stepped into the stall and under the showerhead.

As the water beat down on him, he let his mind wander, flashing back to the county fair and the first time he'd kissed Sean. He'd been fearful and confused then, had felt ashamed of what he'd done. But kissing Sean this time had felt different. It had felt totally natural, and so right. Sean kissing him back had felt right, too.

Elijah closed his eyes, remembering Sean's lips on his, tasting of watermelon and fresh rain, and the feel of Sean's body covering his. It was the first time in months that being physically close to another man hadn't made him feel uneasy and afraid. For a moment he let himself imagine going to sleep in Sean's arms every night and waking up the same way every morning.

He imagined Hannah rolling her eyes at him and couldn't blame her. Even if what had happened with Sean was just a one-time thing, it didn't stop Elijah from thinking of the two of them as a couple, of imagining them sharing a life together. It was foolish, he knew. Sean could have just been caught up in the moment. Missing Daniel, it was perfectly understandable that he'd respond when Elijah leaned in and kissed him.

Hadn't Sean been alone for a whole year? He had to have gotten horny a lot during all that time, with no way to get relief except by jerking off. The kissing and touching, the wild grinding on the loveseat could have been nothing more than his responding to his body's physical needs.

As much as he knew that was possible, Elijah wanted to believe that Sean felt something for him, that their hectic coming together on the loveseat had been the result of real feelings and not the result of Sean's pent-up sexual frustration. He couldn't believe a man who had loved someone as deeply as Sean had loved Daniel would only be looking for something physical. If he had been, if Elijah had been nothing but an available body, then why had Sean waited so long to make a move on him? In the weeks he'd been at the cabin, Sean had gone out of his way to make Elijah feel safe, going so far as to hide his homosexuality from him. And if what Sean had told him was true, that his feelings had been growing all the time Elijah had been there, then Sean had shown super-human restraint in staying away from him, especially after they began sharing the bed.

Pedar had made Elijah believe he'd really cared about him, even loved him, but when Elijah had finally realized the truth, it had given him the courage to leave. It had also made him afraid to get close to another man again. But Sean wasn't Pedar. In only the short time Elijah had known him, Sean had proven time and again that he was a good man, someone Elijah could trust and depend on.

He sensed rather than heard Sean come into the bathroom. Turning toward the door, Elijah got his first look at a completely naked Sean, and his eyes were immediately and involuntarily drawn down to Sean's crotch. What he'd only been able to feel between their bodies on the loveseat, Elijah was now able to see, and he couldn't stop himself from staring. Even without an erection, the length and girth of Sean's cock was bigger than anything Elijah had ever seen in the pages of the gay porn magazines he'd jerked off to when he was a teenager.

Elijah might have continued to stare if Sean hadn't moved toward him, quickly closing the distance between them and stepping into the stall beside him. He moved Elijah from under the spray, and gently but firmly backed him up against the wall, placing one arm on each side of him and caging him there. "Close your eyes," Sean instructed him.

"But I want to see you," Elijah protested.

Sean's face betrayed nothing. "Just humor me, okay?"

"Okay," Elijah gave in with a petulant sigh. He closed his eyes, but it was difficult to keep them closed when he didn't know what Sean was going to do. More than anything, Elijah wanted Sean to kiss him again, and despite the steam and the heat in the bathroom, he found himself trembling at the thought of Sean's hands on him here in the shower, with no clothes to get in their way and no cramped quarters to limit their movements.

When he felt the cool, thick liquid plop onto his head, Elijah yelped and opened his eyes. "Don't move," Sean chuckled. "I don't want to get shampoo in your eyes."

"You're washing my hair?" Elijah asked incredulously.

Sean nodded. "That day I first found you," he said as he worked the shampoo into Elijah's dark hair, "you had your head down on the table and all I could see was your hair. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to have my hands in it since then."

It wasn't what Elijah had been expecting, but Sean's hands in his hair felt wonderful. He'd never thought of washing his hair as anything but a necessity, and never gave it more than a quick scrub in the shower, but Sean was taking his time, massaging his scalp and making a simple shampoo into a luxurious experience. Women went to spas and high-end beauty salons and paid top dollar for this kind of treatment, didn't they? And here he was getting it for free. "That feels wonderful," he told Sean.

Sean smiled, obviously pleased. "You deserve a little pampering, Elijah," he said. "Let me take care of you." When Elijah offered no further resistance, Sean finished the shampooing and rinsed his hair under the shower, then squeezing some of Elijah's vanilla body wash into his hand, he began to rub it over Elijah's skin, working up a rich lather. It reminded Elijah of when he was a child and his mother used to wash him in the bathtub. Sean's touch was as gentle as his mother's had been, but Sean's hands moved over his skin in a different way, each stroke slow and sensual, and Elijah's body reacted in a way it never had when his mother had bathed him.

When Elijah's cock lifted, arcing up toward Sean, Sean lost all interest in bathing him. Cupping the back of Elijah's neck in his large hand, Sean pulled Elijah to him for a long, deep kiss, moving him under the shower so the water rained down on them, washing away the soap and eliminating the last barrier separating them until there was nothing but bare skin against bare skin. There was no urgency in their movements now, none of the explosive need they'd given in to on the loveseat. They explored each other's bodies slowly, like strangers discovering a new world, every touch filled with surprise and wonder.

Elijah didn't think he would ever get enough of Sean, the feel of him, the taste. He uttered a small cry of protest when Sean broke their kiss so he could turn him around until his chest was pressed against Elijah's back, but Elijah's protest became a strangled gasp when Sean reached down and fisted the younger man's cock. With his free hand, Sean brushed his fingers against Elijah's nipples. A low moan escaped Elijah's lips and his head fell back against Sean's shoulder.

Sean spoke to him, his mouth close to Elijah's ear, but Elijah couldn't understand the words. His senses on overload, all he could hear was the rushing water and the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears.

His body overwhelmed by pleasure, Elijah barely registered Sean slight movement behind him until he felt Sean's erection slip between his buttocks, inviting entry. Fear cutting through him with the sharpness of a blade, Elijah wrenched himself away from Sean. "No! Don't!"

Sean couldn't have looked more shocked if he'd been dealt a physical blow. He backed away from Elijah, stepping out of the stall and leaving the bathroom without a word. Elijah just stood there and watched him go, as if his behavior had shocked him as much as it had Sean. Then he shut off the shower and followed.

Elijah found Sean sitting on the bed. He was still naked, and when he saw Elijah, he pulled the sheet across his lap to cover his crotch. In a sad, tired voice he murmured, "Forgive me, Elijah."

There was a sudden tightness in Elijah's chest, a burning at the back of his throat. For a moment he was afraid he was going to start crying. Putting a hand lightly on Sean's shoulder, he said softly, "Sean, I'm so sorry."

Sean shook his head. "No," he told Elijah, "you did nothing wrong. I tried to push you into something you weren't ready for. Or maybe you don't want it at all. I wanted to make love to you so much that I convinced myself you wanted it, too. It was a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake, Sean." Elijah sat down beside him. "I am ready. And I do want it. I want you."

The pain in Sean's eyes changed to confusion. "Then...why?

Elijah swallowed hard. "You weren't wearing any protection. It wouldn't have been safe."

Sean nodded understanding. "Of course. I should have realized." He smiled now. "But you don't have to worry. Even though Daniel and I both practiced safe sex before we met, when we became involved, we had ourselves tested. As we expected, we were both negative, and we were totally monogamous during our ten years together. So you're perfectly safe with me."

Elijah looked away, then forced his eyes back to meet Sean's. "It wasn't me I was worried about."

"I don't understand," Sean said. "You said you were a virgin when you met Pedar, that he was the first man you ever slept with."

Elijah nodded. "I was. Pedar was my first...but I wasn't his." He watched Sean's face, could see him trying to work it out, saw the exact moment it clicked.

"Are you telling me that in the three years you were together, you never used protection?"

"No, we used condoms every time, but one night...." Elijah let his words trail off, wishing he could just leave it at that, but he could see Sean was waiting for an explanation, and after all Sean had done for him, Elijah felt he deserved one. Taking a deep breath then letting it out again, he began. "We'd gone out to dinner at Pedar's favorite restaurant. He was celebrating a big deal he'd just closed so he ordered champagne. Because I didn't like it, I only took a sip, just to please him, and Pedar drank the rest of the bottle himself. By the time we left the restaurant he was drunk, and I remember thinking how glad I was that he'd used his driver and not driven us himself. He was so wasted I figured we'd just go to sleep, but Pedar wanted sex. I didn't want to make love with him when he was like that so I said no, but Pedar wouldn't take no for an answer."

Sean's mouth formed a thin line and he said very calmly, "He raped you."

"It wasn't rape," Elijah protested. "He was my lover. I was living with him."

"Being someone's lover doesn't mean they own you. Being Pedar's lover didn't give him the right to force you to have sex with him when you didn't want to." Sean suddenly looked ill. "My God, Elijah. On the loveseat. I was so rough with you. The idea that I treated you like he did, it makes me feel sick."

"But you didn't," Elijah said quickly. "Sean, you could never hurt me the way Pedar did. It isn't in you to hurt anyone." He shook his head. "I don't know why I fought him. I should have just gone along with it. If I had, Pedar wouldn't have gotten so angry." He closed his eyes. "If I had, he might not have forgotten the condom."

Emotion swam into Sean's eyes. "Elijah, are you HIV positive?"

Elijah bit down on his bottom lip. "I don't know. I've been too scared to find out."

******

Sean remembered in a flash just exactly how it had felt, going with Daniel for the HIV tests. Even in near certainty that they were both okay, it had been scary, to put it mildly. His heart thumped in sympathy as he slid his arm around Elijah's shoulders and pulled him into a warm, comforting embrace. Elijah wrapped both arms around him, burrowing close, and Sean tenderly stroked his damp, tumbled hair. "You need to do it, dearheart. You'll be all right. Then you'll never have to worry about it again."

Elijah nodded a little. "I know."

Sean flat out wasn't going to even entertain the notion that he wasn't all right. Elijah shivered and Sean stretched out on the bed with him and dragged a blanket around them both. The fire was beginning to spread a glowing warmth, the rain no more than a gentle patter on the roof now.

Elijah sighed, head on his shoulder, touching fingers through the hair on his chest under the covers. "I'm sorry, Sean."

Sean hugged him. "Don't be sorry. You're not responsible for what he did to you."

Elijah leaned back a little to look into his eyes, with an expression that was almost amused. "I mean… I'm sorry we can't fuck." He grimaced. "I'm _really_ sorry we can't fuck."

Sean was feeling of a mind to risk it, nearly, but he wouldn't put that kind of stress on Elijah. The very idea of the boy caring enough for his welfare to wait filled his heart to bursting with love. "It's all right, Elijah. There's plenty we can still do in the meantime." He smiled, and Elijah smiled, and they kissed and hugged each other tight. And that was clearly the moment he'd been waiting for. Yearning for. "Elijah… will you stay here with me? Can we make a life together?"

Elijah looked at him with tears sparkling in those big blue eyes and said, "Yes."

******

When Elijah blinked, sending those tears down his cheeks, Sean wiped them away and said with a smile, "I hope those are tears of joy."

His heart full to bursting, Elijah nodded. "Sean?" he began.

"Yes?"

Elijah told himself he should just accept it as truth, but this was Sean's life, too, and he had to know for sure. So even though he feared the answer he might receive, Elijah forced himself to ask, "This _is_ what you really want, isn't it, Sean? I mean, you're not asking me to stay just because you feel sorry for me?"

"My sweet Elijah," Sean told him, "if I've been feeling sorry for anyone, it's me."

Elijah looked surprised. "You? Why?"

"Because I knew you were going to leave, and I didn't know how I was going to face living here without you. There were so many times I wanted to ask you to stay, but I couldn't, not until I was convinced you felt something for me than gratitude. I'd almost given up."

Elijah shook his head in wonder. "I thought you could never have feelings for me. I even told Til that when you were ready, I was sure you'd want to find someone..." He hesitated. "...someone like Daniel."

Sean stroked Elijah's cheek. "I didn't expect there to be anyone after Daniel. I certainly had no interest in looking. I planned to hide out here for the rest of my life, but then you showed up and I found out I wasn't as dead inside as I thought I was. I didn't believe I could feel this way again after Daniel, wasn't sure I wanted to."

Elijah nodded. "I know you still love him."

Sean smiled wistfully. "Daniel will always be a part of my life, Elijah, but the last thing he said to me was that he wanted me to move on with my life after he was gone. I know that Daniel would want me to be happy without him, and for the first time since I lost him, I actually believe I can be."

"With me?" Elijah asked shyly. In answer, Sean gave him a long, deep kiss and pulled him close. Lying in Sean's strong arms, Elijah had never felt more safe, or more loved.

He was home.

&gt;&lt; &gt;&lt; &gt;&lt; &gt;&lt; &gt;&lt; &gt;&lt;

The End


End file.
